


Love And Other Socially Acceptable Emotions

by themayqueen



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art, Aunt-Niece Relationship, Bad Parenting, Best Friends, Coffee Shops, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Divorce, Dorms, Drinking, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, House Party, Infidelity, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Marching Band, Music, Parent-Child Relationship, Partying, References to Shakespeare, Roommates, School Dances, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexuality Crisis, Theatre, Underage Drinking, Virginia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 94,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themayqueen/pseuds/themayqueen
Summary: Victoria is good at acting. Victoria isn’t good at making friends, relationships or being true to herself. At college, she makes several friends, including the confusing and frustrating Zac Hanson, who will help her figure out how to finally be herself.





	1. At Rise

I don't claim to know anything about life. But I do know that whenever you make a plan, it's safest to assume that every power in the universe will suddenly conspire to do everything possible to ensure that your plan falls magnificently apart. As I sat in my brand new dorm room just a handful of hours into my first semester of college, this was all I could think. 

The room was eerily quiet; in fact, the entire dorm seemed to be empty. My roommate Justine had gone out to dinner with her parents, and I had yet to spend more than a few seconds chatting with any of the other freshmen I had met. As for my parents, my father had managed to spend just under three hours helping Aunt Patty and I carry my belongings to the fifth floor of Johnson Hall. After that, he was back on his way to Blacksburg, where he evidently had lots of planning to do before the semester began at his college. My mother was nowhere to be found, although it was safe to assume she was somewhere doting on her new boyfriend. Her excuse, if she called, would be some sob story about how hard it is to find a job and how she just doesn't have the money to drive all the way to Richmond for me.

I didn't quite know what to do with myself. The room was mostly filled with brand new things, purchased just for this new phase in my life. I couldn't bear to bring much from my childhood home, which I had moved out of three months earlier to join my mom and aunt in Richmond. I kept compulsively arranging and rearranging the books and movies stacked on the bookshelf Justine and I were sharing. I moved a stuffed kitten from the desk to the dresser and back at least five times. I even fiddled with the lavender and black letters over my desk that spelled out VICTORIA, a going away present from Justine's mom.

So this was college. Fantastic. 

I stood at the window for a while, watching downtown Richmond move below me. We were lucky to have a room with giant picture windows, a feature that almost made up for how tiny the room was. The sky was still bright and the trees still bore their summer colors. Cars flew by and people milled around outside the dormitories that lined the street. I turned away from the window and tapped my iPod on, setting it to a playlist entitled “There's No Home For You Here”. It was a giant slap in the face that I knew I didn't really deserve; this wasn't some exile, some self-chosen isolation. I was not alone here. I had my aunt, my best friend, and when she felt like giving me the time, my mother was not too far away. But it was a fresh start. A full academic scholarship and a chance to see who I was out on my own. An adventure in a new land. An undiscovered country.


	2. This, And A Terror

"If you don't audition for this play, I'm never speaking to you again," Justine practically screeched. She knew I wasn't really considering not auditioning and I knew she wasn't really considering never speaking to me again. It wouldn't work very well anyway, given that we were sharing a room.

We might have our occasional arguments and over dramatics, but we've always been best friends. For our weirdnesses and differences, we compliment each other. We're both artistic, but she prefers to stay behind the canvas, while I'm at center stage. When we were younger, I wrote these elaborate plays and she drew the action in crayon in the margins. I guess that's just how we are. I'm the author and she's the illustrator. I have the words and she has the pictures that make it all real, make it make sense.

I scowled, but she knew the face was just an act, like so much of me usually is. "Of course I'm auditioning. It's just intimidating, you know? What if I don't get a good part?"

Justine shrugged, talking over her shoulder as she shuffled closer toward the coffee shop's counter. "It's Hamlet. Isn't every part good?"

"You might be onto something there," I replied, standing on my tip-toes to see the front of the line. It looked like the entire Starbucks was being manned by two guys who both looked more than a little frazzled. As the customers in front of us shuffled off to the side, I was able to get a better view of the cashier. He was tall and thin, with blond hair tied back in a sloppy ponytail and a frustrated expression on his face. Justine stepped up to place her order.

"Welcome to order, can I take your Starbucks--no, wait," the boy rattled off, his expression fading from frustration to confusion and back, finally landing somewhere in between the two.

Justine giggled-–softly at first and then louder, unable to contain herself. I'll admit, I cracked a smile too. Classes had been in session for almost a week and the entire campus seemed to be constantly in motion; I couldn't fault the poor guy for being more than a little overwhelmed by it all. 

"I-–you know what I meant, right? I don't think I can repeat it," he continued, frowning at Justine's reaction.

I gently shoved Justine to the side and stepped up to the register. "I don't know about her, but I'll have a green tea latte."

"Yeah, I'll have the same," Justine added, struggling to regain her composure. 

"Alright, that'll be $2.75 each. Step down there to pick up them. It might be a while since half our staff apparently quit yesterday," the cashier replied, ringing up our orders one at a time and taking the cash we offered him. He rushed by the other worker, who struggled to balance three steaming cups, and began preparing our drinks himself.

Following Justine to end of the counter, I continued our earlier conversation. "Look, all I know is that I want to make a good impression starting out. I am majoring in theatre, you know. I want to do a good job with my first play here."

"Yeah, Toria. We all know how much of a perfectionist you are," Justine replied, rolling her eyes.

The cashier came running toward us, nearly sending our drinks skidding clear across the counter. "Oops, sorry. Two green tea lattes."

"Taylor! Ass over here!" The other worker called out and Taylor jogged over to the register, silly grin still plastered on his face.

"Well, that was strange," I remarked as we walked away with our drinks and headed for a small table near the window. 

Justine riffled through her messenger bag and pulled out a small notebook. She always kept one on hand to sketch and make little notes for herself all throughout the day. It was kind of an illustrated day planner. I hadn't had many assignments yet in my classes, aside from some reading about the history of theatre and a few silly quizzes in the University 101 class that both Justine and I were in. Her art classes, however, were a bit more intense. For the moment, I was content just to sit in silence and watch her draw. It was a nice break from the comedies of Aristophanes. 

After a few minutes, I noticed a figure approaching our table. Given how small and crowded the room was, I wasn't certain he was headed for us at first, but when he paused in front of Justine and cleared his throat, all doubt was removed. I couldn't explain it, but he had the look of a freshman like us; wide eyed and just a little disheveled. His hair was shaggy, with random curls and pieces that jutted out at odd angles. It was the perfect image of sex hair, I thought. I knew guys who would spend hours perfecting that look. His shirt claimed to be his "Official Bowling Shirt," so I could tell he had a bit more personality than his nervous stance in front our table was revealing. I was pretty sure I had met him during one of the countless orientations and shared a few classes with him, but I couldn't remember his name.

"Oh Zac, hey!" Justine smiled, finally looking up from her notebook and noticing his presence. "Toria, this is Zac. He's in our Uni 101 class and he's an art major, too. So I basically have every class with him."

He took this as his cue to make himself welcome, and grabbed an unoccupied chair from a nearby table. He plopped down unceremoniously into the chair and slung his backpack into the floor under our table. "Nice to meet you, Toria."

"Nice to meet you, too," I replied. I could tell by the look on his face that he was contemplating my name. "Toria is just a nickname. It's short for Victoria."

Zac laughed. "Oh, that's cool. I'm just Zac or--"

"Zachary Walker Hanson!" I recognized the voice calling that out. It was the frazzled cashier from earlier.

He ducked his head down toward our table, as though that might help him hide. It didn't.

The cashier bounded over to our table and came to a stop over Zac's chair, hands on his hips. "You used my washer and dryer, you asshole."

Zac looked up wide-eyed at the other boy. "Isn't that why you gave me the extra key, Tay?"

"Not so you could make a mess and use all my detergent!"

"Sorry about that," Zac grimaced. "But all the washers in the dorm were full and I needed to do laundry. And I forgot to bring my own detergent." 

"Well, don't do it again. Or I'll cram you in the dryer again like I did when mom tried to teach us how to wash our clothes."

"I was five! I don't think I'll fit now."

"You assume you'll be in one piece at the time," Taylor warned, wagging a finger in Zac's face before turning on his heel and striding back to the counter. 

Zac must have noticed the confusion on our faces, because he answered the question I hadn't asked yet. "That's my brother Taylor. You're allowed to have the initial reaction of wanting to punch him in the face. Trust me, everyone does."

Since Zac mentioned it, I did see the resemblance between the two, although where Taylor was wiry and almost feminine, Zac still bore a bit of baby fat mixed with just a hint of muscle. I smirked at the way he introduced his brother and replied, "We met him earlier in the line. He seems... special."

"That's the nicest way to describe him," Zac said, chuckling softly to himself. He turned to Justine and continued, "Listen I was wondering if I could come by later and borrow that book on figure drawing that you were talking about in class?"

"Sure, no prob. We're in room 517, just stop by later this evening," Justine replied, idly sketching my hand clutching the coffee cup.

"Sounds great. I'm just one floor below you, so I shouldn't get lost," Zac replied, smiling. His smile was crooked and a little goofy but absolutely infectious.

****

"Are you sure you don't want to go out for pizza?" Justine asked for approximately the three hundredth time. That was a gross exaggeration, but not entirely outside the realm of possibility for her.

I shook my head. "Nope, too busy. If I'm gonna audition for Hamlet, I need to read through it again. Get in the right mindset, you know?"

Justine nodded. "Alright, but if you're hungry later..."

"I'll eat the breadsticks you're gonna bring back for me," I finished her sentence and smiled.

"Right." She turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the collected works of Shakespeare. I settled into my bed, the bottom bunk because I had a tendency to flail into the floor during particularly vivid dreams, and flipped the book open to the first act of Hamlet. By the time Hamlet had made his first soliloquy, I was wishing I had joined Justine and her friends from art class for that pizza. Then, a knock came on the door. I imagined the melancholy Dane would have been annoyed by the distraction, but I was just confused. 

I tip-toed to see through the peep hole and found myself staring at Zac's big brown eyes. Usually I wasn't as forgetful at Justine, but this time we had both forgotten about the plans she had made with Zac that morning. I swung the door open and gave him a little smile. 

"Hey, Zac. Sorry Justine isn't here. She's a little scatter-brained and ran out for pizza with some girls from down the hall."

"It's no problem. Do you mind if I come in and maybe you can find the book for me?" He asked, scratching his head and standing awkwardly on the threshold of the room.

"No, come on in. It's cramped, but I guess you're used to that if you live in Johnson too," I replied, moving out of his way to let him enter the room. I couldn't help but notice his shirt, and before I had a chance to think better of it, I remarked, "Mini-van, mega-fun?"

He sat down on my bed without even asking, and looked down at his own shirt as though he had forgotten what he was wearing. "Yeah... I had a little run-in with a cappuccino and I had to change."

"Do I want to know how you managed that?" I asked, moving my purse and backpack from my desk chair so he would have a place to sit.

"Well, Taylor was on the other end of the cappuccino, and apparently he wasn't over the whole laundry thing."

"Say no more," I replied, slapping a hand over my mouth to contain my amusement. The gesture was altogether a resounding failure and I nearly collapsed onto my bed in the ensuing fit of laughter. Zac was a picture of not amused, so I struggled to pull myself back together. 

Finally able to speak again, I said, "Sorry. So why don't you live with Taylor?"

"We shared a room for sixteen years. I like going to the same college as him now, but I'm perfectly content to never step on his dirty underwear again," Zac answered, with a seriousness to his voice that kept me from laughing again. 

"Fair enough," I replied. Now let's see if I can find that book. What was it again?"

Zac cocked his head to the side and bit his lip. "Umm, something on figure drawing? She mentioned it after class yesterday. Drawing Life or Drawing The Figure or something like that."

I plopped down in front of our bookshelf and began digging through Justine's row. We had each brought so many books and movies that they were stacked two and three deep in places just to make it all fit. "How about Drawing The Living Figure?"

"I think that's it!" Zac exclaimed, his face once again overtaken by that crooked smile. I handed the book over to him and watched his eyes grow wide as he flipped through it. 

"So you're an art nerd like Justine, huh?" I teased, sitting down next to him on my bed. 

He was curled up into something like a yoga position, his shaggy head buried in the book. His head popped up and he grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Yup. I mean, I mostly draw comics and funny stuff. Like I did a whole series of these goofy comic strips for my high school newspaper. But I like serious art too, I just feel like I don't know enough about it to make it through this program."

"Well, Justine can definitely help you there. Practically every book she has is about art. Her mom runs a little shop making folk art and doing paintings for people. Art is pretty much her life," I said. It sounded like I was trying to sell him on her, when obviously they had already formed some sort of friendship. I had only truly met the guy today.

"So you're in the Artists Colony too, right?" Zac asked, studying a page on hands, one honey-colored strand of hair hiding his eyes from me. He was referring to the way the college liked to group together students in similar majors. It was how I had ended up in a dorm full of other arts students. "What do you do? Theatre? Music?"

"Theatre. I've been acting for as long as I can remember," I answered. "I guess it's a natural progression for pushy parents who realize their kid talks too much. Stick them on a stage and give them something to recite. Worked great for me. Turns out I'm pretty good at pretending to be other people."

Zac glanced up from his reading. "I know exactly what you mean. Our parents were the same way, but I think it was mostly because they homeschooled us until middle school. So we had to do every possible activity when we were younger-–music lessons, karate, soccer, baseball, football, you name it. Taylor even did ballet, but don't tell him I told you that. I have a feel next time he'll aim a little lower with the hot coffee."

I laughed out loud. The mental image of Taylor Hanson in a tutu was just too much for me to handle. I collapsed backwards on the bed, clutching at my stuffed kitten Pierre as though he could do anything to stop my giggle fit. It felt like I hadn't stopped laughing since Zac arrived at my door, but at least this one wasn't at his expense.

"So was he the Sugar Plum Fairy or the Nutcracker?" I choked out between giggles.

"Fairy. Definitely the fairy." At that, Zac collapsed onto the bed next to me, overcome by his own laughter. It was a high pitched giggle that I thought didn't leave him much room to mock his brother's masculinity, but I wasn't going to point that out. 

While Zac and I were still laughing maniacally about the thought of his lovely brother in a tutu, I heard the door swing open but couldn't lift myself to see who it was. 

"Umm... breadstick delivery?" Justine's voice rang out.

I propped myself up on my elbows, stifling my laughs, and saw Justine hovering over the bed with a large styrofoam box. Behind her stood a tall, thin girl I recognized from my theatre classes.

"Hey guys... we were just. Umm.... Well, it was funny. Thanks for the breadsticks!" I managed to choke out, stumbling over my own words as a few stray laughs managed to escape. Justine held out the box of food and I snatched it out of her hands.

Zac kicked his feet in the air, his laughs now coming in soft wheezes. He swung his feet down to the floor and sat up. "Hey, Justine. Hey... umm, have we met?"

"Hey, Zac. Sorry I was gone. See you guys found the book, though," she replied, looking down at the book that now lay open in the floor.

The other girl stepped around Justine and took a seat at my desk. "I'm Whitley, by the way. I guess you're Zac?"

"Yup, I guess I am," Zac replied, that signature goofy grin back on his face.

Whitley sipped on her milkshake and then looked up at Zac again. "Hey, isn't that your brother who works at the Starbucks down on Cary?"

Zac nodded. "The one and only. Well, one of three brothers I have, actually. But yeah, that's Taylor."

"Three?" I exclaimed.

Justine giggled, and I glared at her, sitting in the floor cross-legged with her skirt bunched up around her knees. "Toria's an only child. But wow, three brothers? I couldn't handle that."

"How about three sisters, too?" Zac asked. 

Whitley nearly choked on her milkshake. "Damn, how do you remember all their names?"

"Lots of practice, I guess," Zac replied, laughing. "There's Isaac, Taylor, me, Jessica, Avery, Mackie and Zoe. That adds up to seven, right?"

"I think so. You're in a room full of arts students and you just asked us to do math? Silly boy," I answered.

Zac looked as though he were in deep thought for a moment, then grinned and poked me in the side gently. "Good point. That's why we keep Isaac around; he was the nerdy accounting major. Or business. Whatever, all I know is it's boring stuff with lots of math."

"Eww, math," I replied, shuddering in exaggerated, mock disgust. "Sounds boring."

"Hey, you," Zac said, poking me in the side again.

I raised an eyebrow. "Yes, dear? Is that how you flirt?"

"Nope, I'm a much worse flirt than that," Zac replied, "I was just wondering if I could try to draw you."

"Sure. I've already got a ton of self-portraits a la Justine, I could use one from a different artist," I answered. 

Before I had even finished my thought, he was digging through his backpack, which he had flung onto the bed with him. He pulled out a worn notebook and a pencil pouch with a Led Zeppelin sticker on the side. I laughed when he began pulling crayons out of the pouch.

"Well that's new," I remarked, smirking at him.

Zac looked up and feigned annoyance, but his big brown eyes sparkled in spite of the act. "Shut up. Raw umber or sepia hair?"

"Raw umber. Definitely," I replied, smoothing down my hair and hoping I looked presentable. 

As I settled in to have my portrait drawn, I couldn't help smiling to myself. Justine and Whitley carried on a conversation in the background, something about the newest Joss Whedon show, but I couldn't focus on it. The bigger picture was more important to me. This was college. This was a home away from... well, everything. I liked it. It felt comfortable. Making new friends had never been my strong suit – I tended to collect vague acquaintances and ex-boyfriends, but not much else in the way of friends. With one crayon portrait, I was starting in the right direction.


	3. The Play's The Thing

The next day I woke far less certain about the future. It was the first day of auditions for Hamlet, and I was in no way prepared. Oh sure, I had entire sections of that and at least ten more of the bard's works memorized. That didn't bring me, a brand new freshman with the green hardly beginning to wear off, any closer to nabbing the part of Ophelia. It wasn't accurate to say that I doubted my abilities. I just knew how the theatre worked. Seniority was often everything, so a newbie like myself needed to be extra special outstanding to get her foot through the door. 

With those thoughts in mind, I woke a half hour earlier than Justine and ten minutes before my alarm clock even rang. I showered and padded back to the room to dry my hair as quietly as possible, but to my surprise Justine had already dressed and left for class. Somehow she managed to always get ready quickly and still look put together, whereas I spent forever in front of the mirror being indecisive. I finally settled on a polka dotted dress that reminded me of Pretty Woman and my worn out Chucks. It was a bit of an odd combination, but the dress made me feel pretty and the shoes were comfortable-–just the two things I needed to make it through the day. 

The first class of the day was University 101, a boring intro class that I shared with nearly every other freshman majoring in fine or performing arts. It was a gigantic class, the type held in a huge lecture hall full of students who were either half asleep, fully asleep, chatting or passing notes-–all without the professor taking much notice. I slid into a seat next to Justine, who had evidently stopped for breakfast (a bagel in one hand an a mug of coffee in the other), just two minutes before the official start of class. The dry erase board announced that today's topic was How To Use The Library. Just as the professor cleared his throat in a feeble attempt to gather our attention, Zac came bounding up the isle and into the seat to my left. He flashed me a feeble smile that told me he wasn't much of a morning person as he flung his backpack over the side of the theater-style seat. 

After listening to Dr. Armour drone on about the minutia of the online card catalog system for what felt like an eternity but was probably only twenty minutes, I felt a poke in the side. That seemed to be Zac's favorite method of getting my attention already. He slipped a piece of paper onto my desk and I realized it was the drawing he had refuse to let me see the night before. I had to admit, it did look a bit like me-–if I were an anime character. I leaned over and drew a smiley face on the open page of his notebook. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zac scribbling something on the page. He slid the notebook toward me and I squinted to read his handwriting:

_Auditions today, right?  
What play is it?_

I scribbled my reply and passed the notebook back to him.

_Hamlet. Hoping to be Ophelia._

He kept the notebook in front of himself for a little longer the second time, and I could see why when he finally slid it back to me.

_~~Good lu~~  
Break a leg! Don't drown yourself, it's not worth it!_

I had to laugh at that, but I tried to quiet myself so as not to draw Dr. Armour's attention. He had to be the most boring professor I had, but I imagined I would be boring too if I were forced to spend my time teaching freshmen how to breathe and tie their own shoes.

We scribbled notes back and forth for the rest of the class and it helped tremendously in passing the time. By the time the professor dismissed us, we had filled two notebook pages with bad knock-knock jokes and drawings of singing hot dogs and aliens in pajamas.

****

The rest of the day went by in a veritable blur, like a movie montage in fast forward. I was only able to choke down a few bites of sushi at dinner, but I struggled through it for fear that if I didn't, Zac would take it upon himself to force feed me. The boy seemed shy at first, but having given him the tiniest opportunity to open up, he showed his truly colors. And his true colors knew no boundaries whatsoever.

I shook my head at the thought of him, and steeled myself to walk through the doors of the theatre. Auditions were held in the smaller workshop theatre, a plain affair with deep stadium seating in the round and a bare stage except for a small grouping of black boxes. When I entered the room, I could see several students already gathered in the floor around the stage. Immediately I recognized Whitley, and she smiled up at me and waved. 

"Hey, Toria," Whitley called out, "I didn't know you were auditioning! Must be a pretty tough show to come in on, huh?"

I nodded and took a seat next to her in the floor. "It definitely is. We did A Midsummer Night's Dream in high school, and I was lucky enough to get Hermia, but that's different. There were so many big female parts in that! This one is gonna be really competitive."

A curvy girl with perfectly styled hair and makeup offered me a small smile. "If you played Hermia, I'm sure you stand a good chance of getting a part here. I'm Cecily, by the way."

"Cecily's our star actress," a voice added over my shoulder. I looked up to see a tall boy with dark curly hair and a very persuasive smile. I thought I heard a bit of venom in his words, but his expression was disarming enough to ignore whatever undertones might have been there. He sat down on the floor next to me, still flashing that winning smile and extended his hand. "I'm Donovan and hopefully I'll be your Hamlet this semester."

"My Hamlet?" I replied, incredulous. I was not oblivious to his flirting, but still a bit taken aback by it. I noticed a bottle blonde a few feet away shooting me a bit of a dirty look, but didn't pay much attention to it. I probably would have been jealous, or at least curious, to see this boy flirt with any of the other girls in the room.

He wiggled his eyebrows. "I meant the general you, of course. But I wouldn't mind playing Hamlet to your Ophelia, either."

Whitley leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Watch out for that one. He's the biggest flirt in the whole department."

As I was concocting an appropriate reply, Dr. Ansary swished onto the stage in a flurry of lacy layers and bracelets. She handed pink paperback versions of the script to everyone and took our names and other various details down on a list. The latter was largely a formality given that most of us were theatre students whom she was already quite familiar with. Dr. Ansary then rattled off a list of scenes for us to act out. Not surprisingly, I read mostly for smaller parts while the veteran actors tackled on the larger ones.

I watched from the sidelines as Donovan read a variety of scenes as Hamlet; it was obvious that he had reason to think he would be playing that particular part. The other actresses were good-–very good. Even the bottle blonde-–evidently named Christin-–who had given me the eyes held her own onstage. I guess she surprised me a little, because she looked much more like the cheerleader type than the actress type. But I had acted long enough to see plenty of different types of people on stage; it really wasn't fair of me to judge her or anything else at the auditions-–although some were much, much better than others.

After we ran out of assigned scenes to read, Dr. Ansary stood on the stage and stared down at us. She scratched her head, cocking it to the side, and said, "Okay people, one more scene. Donovan and Victoria, read Hamlet and Ophelia. The same bit you read with Whitley and Christin."

Donovan hopped onto the stage gracefully, then offered me a hand to help me scale the small distance from floor to stage. I opened the script to the passage Dr. Ansary had specified and waited for a signal to begin. Donovan gave me a nod and a cheesy wink and I cleared my throat.

"Good my lord, how does Your Honor for this many a day?"

"I humbly thank you; well, well, well."

"My lord, I have remembrances of yours..."

The scene seemed to go by in a flash, a flurry of words pouring quite easily out of mine and Donovan's lips. When we finished, Dr. Ansary was clapping softly and nodding. I hopped down off the stage and awaited her comments, chewing my lip nervously.

"Wonderful. That will be all for tonight. I'll post the cast list in two days, so come by, check your name off the list and pick up a script then. Thank you all," she stated, gathering up the scripts and papers scattered around the first row of seats. That was our cue to leave, I supposed. I walked over to where I had thrown my bag down and slung it back over my shoulder. I could feel someone's presence behind me and I turned around to see Donovan. He was a bit close for comfort and I bristled a little at the feeling of his body so near mine.

"Like I said, I wouldn't mind playing Hamlet to your Ophelia," he said, grinning. "That was an awesome audition."

I took a small step backward, hoping he would take notice. "Thanks. I've read the play a million times, so I guess it shows. And I've been acting for as long as I could talk. Maybe longer."

Donovan had not quit grinning for a second of this. Anyone could see his intentions. I wanted to dislike the boy, but I found myself, although not relaxing entirely, warming to the idea of spending time with him. I would have to anyway, if I was going to make it through this production.

"If you get the part, we could get together and run lines," he spoke. After a beat, he continued, "Or if you don't get the part. We could still get together and talk about things outside this building. I hear there's a world out there, but I don't remember much about it."

So the boy was a charmer. I could live with that. I returned his smile, though mine was perhaps not so winning, and replied, "Sure, I'd like that. In either circumstance."

Out the corner of my eye, I saw Whitley approaching and turned to give her a small wave. She changed her course and sidled right up to us, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. Her head practically resting on my shoulder so that we probably looked like some Greek monster, she said, "Well I hope I'm not interrupting a serious love connection here, but I've got to get this girl back to the dorm in time for our show."

"Our show?" I asked, without even enough room to turn my head and direct my questioning look in Whitley's direction.

"Yeah, CSI is on tonight. Don't tell me you forgot!" Whitley replied. I wished I could see inside her head and figure out exactly what she was plotting. It was one of my favorite shows, but I couldn't recall revealing that little fact.

I wiggled out of her grasp slightly so that I could actually look at her and not be stuck staring at Donovan's incredulous and, if I might admit, rather attractive, face. My confusion had nearly slipped out, but I reined it in and replied, "Oh yeah, you know how bad I am at remembering when my shows are on. Are we watching it in my room or yours?"

"I think we'll watch it in yours this time," Whitley replied, pulling me away from Donovan. "See you later, Donny Boy. You know you're a shoe-in for Hamlet. You did great."

Once we were through the theatre's doors and out of earshot, I turned to Whitley and gaped. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, I just took a guess that you like CSI, too. Do you? We can definitely watch it," she said with a shrug.

Pushing open the lobby doors, I replied, "Okay, that's more of a how than a why. Why did you try to get me away from him?"

"Like I said, Donny's the resident flirt. He means well, but he's a strange cookie," she replied. After a small pause, she added, "Plus, I wanted to ask you for a favor."

I knew there was a catch. Isn't there always a catch?

"Alright, what's up?"

Whitley pursed her lips. I thought I could almost see a true blush seeping through her makeup. Why she wore so much makeup when she was a natural beauty was something I would never understand. I had noticed that to be a trend among actors, and my heavily lined eyes had no room to judge hers.

"Well, I was thinking... you're kinda friends with Zac, right?"

I nodded slowly. "You could say that, yeah. I mean, we just met but I have two classes with him and he seems like a nice guy."

She blushed a distinctly darker shade of pink. "The thing is, I've had a thing for his brother since I saw him around last year. I keep dropping hints but he's like absolutely oblivious. I can't get through to him."

"And you suppose I can?" I asked, fishing through my bag for my university ID card as we approached the front doors of Johnson. 

Whitley pulled her card out of her jeans pocket and brushed it across the scanner. "I don't know. I just thought I'd have a little bit of an in with him now, you know? I mean, since you know Zac."

I chewed gently on my bottom lip, thinking about it. "I dunno, let's wait and see how this friendshippy thing with Zac works out. I'm not good at having friends."

Whitley laughed and gave me a gentle nudge. "Please, you're doing fine. I heard Donovan asking you out."

"I said friendship. Bad at friendship. Quite good at the kissy-kissy stuff," I replied. Again I fished through my bag and dug out the key to my room, unlocking it and motioning Whitley inside.

"Well so is Donovan from what I hear," she said, smirking. "And you know, when his hair was longer last year, he looked a lot like Zac."

"Hmm, really? I can't imagine that at all," I said, tilting my head to the side and trying to imagine it as I took a seat on my bed. They both had a charm, but each was unique. I couldn't see any similarity at all in how they looked or acted, or how I thought of them.

"Totally," Whitley replied, sitting in Justine's desk chair. "And they're both pretty easy on the eyes, don't you think?"

"Boy crazy, much?" 

"Not really. Well, a little. I just know a cute guy when I see one. Anyway, you can have either of them. I'll stick with Taylor," she replied.

I shook my head. "Taylor's alright, I guess. Kind of beanpole-esque, though. Don't you think?"

Whitley grinned. "I'd climb that beanpole any day."


	4. A Heart Unfortified, A Mind Impatient

"All I'm saying is Sonic and Sally were the cutest couple ever," Justine mumbled, taking a bite of her sandwich as punctuation to her statement. She nodded her head solemnly, as though she had just explained the meaning of life. Maybe she had.

I didn't bother acknowledging her statement. She and Zac were locked in what looked to be an epic discussion of comic book characters, and I figured it was hopeless to even attempt an interruption.

"So, the cast list gets posted today," Whitley stated, evidently reaching the same conclusion.

I took a sip of my soda and nodded. "Yeah. Are you nervous? I have no idea what to expect."

"Don't be so modest," she replied, giving me a small nudge. "You know you rocked everyone's socks off reading for Ophelia."

"Well, I suppose I did alright," I conceded. "But I think Donovan's socks were the only ones effected."

"Whatever! Spiderman and Mary Jane are way more epic and you know it," Zac declared, then leaned over my plate to grab a french fry. Still chewing on it, he turned his head to me and asked, "Did you say you find out what part you got today?"

"Sure do, Mr. Manners. Did I say you could eat that fry?" 

"If you feel that strongly about it, I could give it back," he replied, leaning over my plate and pretending to gag himself.

"Oh that's disgusting. Why are we friends with boys?" Whitley cried out, dropping an already-ketchuped fry back to her own plate. 

"Kidding, kidding," Zac replied, a grin taking over his entire face. "And you obviously keep me around because of my rugged good lucks and winning personality."

"Yup, that must be it," I replied, poking him in the face with a fry. He just smiled and plucked it from my fingers, shoving it in his mouth before I could protest. 

Justine looked up from her food, looking as though a thought had just struck her. "Hey, Toria, didn't you say your mom was coming to visit soon?"

"I thought she was," I said, frowning, but trying to keep my voice light and casual. "But I haven't heard from her since just before the semester started. I don't think she has called Aunt Patty either, so I really have no idea."

"Oh," Justine replied. She knew well enough what I was thinking, and thankfully didn't feel the need to probe the subject further. "So, when can you find out what part you got?"

"The cast list gets posted... well, 20 minutes ago, actually," Whitley replied, glancing down at her watch.

I looked down at my plate and felt my stomach filling up with tiny butterflies that would surely protest even one more bite of food. "I'm nervous. I never get this nervous. I don't wanna look."

"Well I've got class, so I'll have to wait. Or you can tell me what I got. I'm not too worried," Whitley replied, with a casual wave of her hand. Usually I would have been just like her, but being a small fish in a huge pond kind of changed that. I couldn't be certain that I would get any part at all, let alone the one I really wanted.

Zac leaned against me, "I'll go with you, if you want some moral support. But only if you let me finish those fries."

"Aww, isn't that sweet?" I replied, giggling. "Stuff your face and let's go."

"Yes, sir!"

****

Ten minutes later we stood in front of the Performing Arts Center, the butterflies in my stomach growing to terrifying size and threatening to come flitting up my throat. As I tried to steel myself to enter the building, Donovan pushed through the doors and shot me a grin.

"Congrats," he said, coming unnecessarily close to my side as he brushed past us.

I raised an eyebrow but didn't have the courage to ask what that meant. I had a feeling I already knew the answer, though, and it did surprisingly little to settle my stomach.

"Who was that?" Zac asked, poking me in the back and prodding me toward the door.

I wiggled out of his reach and pulled open one of the doors. "That was Donovan. He's the star actor here, I guess. I'm betting he got the part of Hamlet."

"Looks like what he really wants is you," Zac replied, drumming on the back of my head as he followed me down the hallway. I was utterly convinced that it was impossible for Zac to be still for even one second at a time.

Swatting his hand away, I replied, "Stop being such a dork. He did ask me out, though. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Well, he said we should run lines together or something. It was all very vague and non-committal, really," I replied, shrugging it off.

I stopped in my tracks, seeing the bulletin board ahead of us with the words "CAST LIST" in giant curly letters and a long sheet of paper tacked up below that. Zac shoved me forward and I collided face first with the board. Directly in front of my eyes were the words I couldn't quite believe.

_Ophelia....................Victoria Remy_

Zac's head landed on my shoulder and a second later he exclaimed, "Toria, that's awesome!"

"Un-fucking-believable is more like it," I replied, feeling a smile creeping across my face. I could feel my excitement building up inside and it felt like a jolt of electricity running through every single nerve ending. I had to do something. Spinning around to face him, I hugged Zac as tightly as I possibly could and squealed aloud. He lifted me up in the air like I weighed nothing and I squealed even louder and kicked my feet in the air.

"Careful now, or your boyfriend might get jealous of us," Zac said, setting me gently back onto the carpeted floor.

I swatted at his face, "Not funny. He isn't my boyfriend, he just plays one on stage."

"Right, and I'm sure he'll have to try really hard to make it believable."

"Someone sounds a little jealous," I replied, poking Zac's stomach. 

He feigned pain and clutched his stomach. Recovering quickly from his fictional wounds, he smiled. "Nope, not at all. Just trying to make sure you noticed the pathetic puppy dog eyes he was making at you. That boy's got it bad, lady."

"Right. Whatever you say," I replied, shaking my head. "Here's the plan-–I'm gonna get my script now, and you're gonna shut up about Donovan."

Zac mimed zipping his lips and gave me two thumbs up. Even when he wasn't talking, the boy was verbose. His friendship would be interesting. There could be no other word for it.

****

"Come on, let me help you learn your lines!" Zac pleaded, plucking the script from my hands. I had been absent-mindedly trying to highlight my lines while also attempting to watch "Citizen Kane" for my film class. Neither one was getting the attention it deserved, mostly due to Zac's persistence.

I stuffed my mouth full of popcorn and shook my head. "Not now, I'm trying to watch this film. We're supposed to discuss it tomorrow in class and I have no idea what's happening here."

Zac ignored me and plunged ahead, flipping the book open to a random page and clearing his throat loudly. "Ahem – Lady, shall I lie in your lap?"

"Good lord, no," I replied, laughing. I clutched the bowl of popcorn closer to my chest and scooted away from him.

"I mean my head upon your lap," Zac replied, grabbing a handful of popcorn and stuffing his mouth full of it. 

"Hey, my popcorn!" I screamed, shoving his face away.

With a mouthful of popcorn, crunching the kernels loudly, Zac forged on. "D'ya fink I meant country madders?"

"I think you're disgusting, my lord."

He grabbed the bowl of popcorn, but to my surprise set it to the side and flung himself into my lap. "That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs."

I poked Zac in the side. "Get thee to a nunnery! And off my lap!"

"Methink the lady doth protest too much," he replied, giggling. "Oww, I'm ticklish!"

I smirked and slid my hands underneath Zac, making sure to tickle him as much as possible in the process. He writhed and giggled, and I gave him one good, hard shove. He tumbled out of my bed, a mass of still shaking limbs, and landed in the floor laughing.

"Fie on you!" He exclaimed, waving his fist in the air, then collapsing into another fit of laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, you bite your thumb at me, sir. Whatever," I replied, picking up the script from where it had landed when I sent Zac rolling. The film was a lost cause, I decided, and pressed the stop button on the remote. 

Zac picked himself up from the floor and grabbed the popcorn bowl. Shoving his mouth full, he spoke, "So, why'd you decide to come to VCU?"

"Oh, they gave me a scholarship," I replied, wincing as the highlighter squeaked across the page, "Plus, my mom moved here last year to live with my aunt, after she divorced my dad. So she nagged me to come here."

"Cool about the scholarship. Sucky about your mom, though," Zac said. "My parents were all for me going here, since I'd have Tay here to keep an eye on me."

"Keep an eye on you?" I asked, looking up from the script.

Zac climbed back onto the bed next to me. "Yup. They have this weird idea that I'm gonna go crazy at college. Start partying like crazy or something. I guess because Tay and Ike both did. Which makes one wonder why Tay would be the responsible one and watch over me, but whatever. So where are you from?"

"Blacksburg. And yeah, I could have gone to Virginia Tech. But going to the college my dad teaches at? Not my idea of fun," I answered.

Zac nodded. "Makes sense. I'm from Arlington. Well, my family's from Oklahoma originally and we've lived everywhere. But we liked Arlington best and ended up moving there for good when I was 8."

"What are you guys, gypsies or something?"

"Or something," Zac answered, smiling.

I swiped the highlighter across his face, leaving a bright pink streak across his cheek. "I'm just gonna assume you're from a family of secret ninja assassins, then."

"If I were a secret ninja assassin, why would I be in college?"

"Clearly it's a cover-up," I replied, nodding sagely.

"Riiiight," Zac said, wiggling his eyebrows. "I'm actually stalking you, in fact. So, you gonna go out with that Donovan dweeb?"

"I dunno. Hadn't given it much thought. I suppose, but it might get awkward. Dating other actors is never a good idea," I replied. On second thought, I added, "Actually, dating in general is usually a bad idea for me."


	5. Pluck Out The Heart To See What Makes It Move

“Okay everyone, let's take five! Take a piss or smoke a cigarette, but you don't have time for both!” Dr. Ansary called out, clapping her hands together.

I sighed. We had been at rehearsal for almost two hours and I had barely set foot on the stage at all. I knew Dr. Ansary was trying to help all of us get a feel for the show by sitting in the audience for such long expanses of time while everyone else fiddled with their blocking, but I could not recall the last time I had been so bored. Most of the rehearsal, at least when Dr. Ansary wasn't looking, I had spent trying to read Ulysses, a feat I was quite confident I would not accomplish. As I stared at the page, plotting ways to go back in time and prevent James Joyce from ever writing the novel, I felt someone sit down beside me.

“I bet this is boring you out of your mind, huh?” Donovan's voice was soft and smooth and I could nearly hear the flirtatious smile creeping across his face.

“Yeah, and not just because I've read the play a million times,” I replied, my eyes still glued to the same page I had been staring at for a good ten minutes. 

“Then maybe you don't need my help running lines after all...” Donovan trailed off, his eyes big and pleading. I had to admit he was rather good looking and eerily similar to how I had always pictured Hamlet to look. It was no secret that the melancholy Dane was my favorite literary character. Some girls loved Holden Caulfield, but not me. Maybe this Donovan boy wasn't so bad after all.

I closed my book and smiled up at Donovan. “I don't know about that. We could still get together some time, I suppose. More practice is always a good thing, isn't it?”

“Definitely. Tomorrow night?” He asked. “Unless you have other plans, of course.”

“Tomorrow night sounds good to me,” I replied.

“Great. Coffee and Hamlet it is, then. Your cell number is on the cast list in the green room, right?”

Before I could make any reply other than a small nod, Dr. Ansary burst back into the room, once again clapping her hands and announcing the scene we were picking things up at. Surprisingly, I did make a tiny appearance in that scene. I scurried backstage to wait in the wings for my entrance. 

While I waited, I peered through the curtain. One tiny beam of light streamed through, illuminating Donovan's figure on stage. It was a date, wasn't it? He asked me on a date. I couldn't quite wrap my brain around it. My last date had required a dress with far too many sequins and roses that made my nose itchy and red by the end of the night. I had a feeling this one would be rather different, and that was perfectly alright.

****

I wasn't kidding when I told Donovan I had read Hamlet a million times. Peppering my speech with hyperbole, perhaps. But nevertheless, I knew the play inside and out. I vowed to humor him anyway, and tried to smile pleasantly as he stumbled through the monologues between sips of iced coffee. He was a good actor, and the love scenes, or what passed as such, were coming together quite well, even if he was struggling to get everything memorized.

“Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I...”

I listened to him for a moment, as he worked through the speech a few lines at a time, pausing occasionally to reconsider the sound or meaning of certain words. It was a bit boring to just observe the process. I slid my hand across the table to touch Donovan's, gently getting his attention. “I'm gonna go grab another coffee, alright? And probably a little snack, do you want anything?”

He shook his head. “No, I'm fine. I'll just run through this soliloquy a few more times while you're gone.”

I nodded and stood up, grabbing my purse. We were in the same Starbucks which every VCU student appeared to have a preference for, but it was late enough that the cafe was nearly deserted. I walked toward the counter, and I could hear Taylor's voice pouring out of the back room. The words were muffled by the music funneling out of a speaker somewhere above my head, but it sounded like he was in the middle of an argument.

A few seconds later, Taylor emerged from the back, wiping chocolate frosting from his face. I raised an eyebrow but couldn't even formulate an appropriate question for the scene at hand.

“Don't ask. Don't fucking ask,” Taylor answered my unasked question, burying his face in a towel from beside the sink.

I recognized the high-pitched laugh before I saw its source. Then another figure emerged from the back room, a cupcake in each hand. 

“Zac?” 

He looked up and I saw a hint of surprise on his face before he smiled. “Toria! Hey, what's up?”

“Not much, just running lines,” I replied, motioning toward the table where Donovan sat. “Zac... did you--”

“I didn't throw it!”

Taylor removed the towel from his face and shot Zac an evil look.

“I dropped it.”

Another glare from Taylor.

“Sideways?”

Taylor walked over to Zac and rubbed his chocolate-icing covered towel all over Zac's shirt. He leaned in close to Zac's face and growled, “You. Bastard.”

Zac walked toward me, giggling softly. “Cupcake?”

“Don't you think it's a bit soon for pet names, honey pie?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up. Seriously, want a cupcake? I got red velvet and double chocolate,” he said, holding the cupcakes in front of my face.

I plucked the red velvet one from his hand. “Don't mind if I do. Since when do you work here?”

“Nope, just dropped by to keep Taylor company. The other guy, Joseph, is back here too, but he's taking a smoke break,” Zac replied, biting into the chocolate cupcake. “That'll be three bucks, by the way.”

“Geez, that's pretty steep, even for Starbucks,” I replied, licking a bit of frosting off my finger and taking a small bite of the cupcake.

“Well you gotta pay for the wonderful service too, you know. And service like this--” Zac said, posing and attempting a sexy face. “Doesn't come cheap.”

I felt a shadow descend behind me and I turned my head to see Donovan standing there, script in hand.

“I was thinking maybe it was time for another coffee after all,” Donovan spoke.

Zac turned his head and yelled toward the back room. “Taylor! Come do your job, coffee boy!”

Donovan wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Who's your friend, Victoria? I don't think we've met.”

Wiping cupcake crumbs off his shirt, Zac held his hand out. “I'm Zac. Me and Toria have a couple classes together.”

Taylor walked over and handed Donovan a fresh coffee. He took out a few bills and laid them on the counter, then turned back to look at me. “Well, I think I need to run. I've had fun tonight, though.”

“Alright, I've got some other homework to get done before tomorrow anyway,” I replied, then added as an afterthought, “I had fun, too.”

“Great. I'll see you at rehearsal,” Donovan said, then leaned down and placed a small kiss on my forehead. I stood there stunned as he walked away, swaying slightly with a confidence that unnerved me. 

I watched him walk out of the coffee shop, then turned to look at Zac. His mouth hung open for a moment like he wanted to speak but couldn't. I offered him a small shrug and what I hoped passed for a smile. He shoved the rest of the cupcake in his mouth, and I almost thought it was an attempt to silence himself.

“Told ya he was interested,” Zac eventually said, his mouth still partially full of chocolate cupcake.

“Whatever,” I replied.

I wanted to say more, but I could see Taylor's approach, a cupcake held in the air high above his head. He crept silently behind Zac, motioning for me to be quiet. With an exaggerated sweep of his arm, he brought the cupcake down on top of Zac's head and smeared the frosting throughout his hair.

“You asshole!” Zac screeched, reaching his hand up and grabbing a handful of smushed icing and cake. “But I guess I deserve that.”

“Damn right you do,” Taylor replied, handing Zac the towel that he still had slung over his shoulder. I wondered how much good it would do, since it too was covered in chocolate.

Stifling my laughter, I said, “Well, speaking of people being interested, I know someone with a thing for Taylor.”

“Oh yeah?” Zac asked, idly licking cupcake remains off his figures. 

“Yup. You know Whitley? She's in theatre with me,” I replied.

Zac tilted his head to the side, looking as though he were in deep thought. “Light brownish hair? Tall? Eats lunch with you?”

I nodded. “That's the one.”

Taylor didn't speak for a moment. He looked blankly back and forth between Zac and me. “What?”

Zac tossed the towel to his brother. “You should go for it, Tay. She's pretty cute.”

Taylor shrugged. “I don't know. I guess. You know I work almost every night, though.”

“Take a night off? It won't hurt anything,” Zac replied, walking over to the sink. He turned the water on and ducked his entire head under it. I gawked and pointed, and Taylor could do nothing but offer me another shrug.

Taylor walked over to the counter and leaned over it. “So who is this girl?”

“Like I said, her name is Whitley. She's a sophomore, I think. She's a theatre major, too. That's how I know her. I'll admit, I don't know her that well yet, but she seems nice enough. And she's definitely noticed you.”

“You think she's interested?” Taylor asked, his already rosy cheeks turning a slightly darker shade. 

I nodded. “Yup. She told me. You've got nothing to lose here, Tay. She's already said she wants to go out with you, so you know she won't say no. It's all on you now.”

Taylor looked down at the counter, his golden bangs flopping down over his eyes. He staring at the marble for a moment, his hand reaching out to pick at an imaginary stain on the surface. Finally he looked up and I couldn't quite place the emotion in his eyes. He almost looked sad, but maybe it was just nervousness. “Alright. I guess. We've got some new people starting here tomorrow, so I'll be able to take time off once we're not so short-staffed.”

I smiled. “That's great! I'll let her know you're up for a date.” 

“Where should I take her?” Taylor asked. “I haven't been on a date in a long time.”

From the sink, Zac called out, “You've been on plenty of dates! They just all ended with you waking up naked in an unfamiliar room.”

Taylor frowned at his brother's back. “Do you want another cupcake to the head?”

“Children. Behave!” I spoke, trying to sound stern. Truthfully, I thought the two were hilarious.“How about a movie? That's pretty painless, isn't it?”

Zac walked over and put his arm around Taylor, his soaking wet hair dripping over the counter and onto Taylor's shirt and apron. “Sure, a movie's good. How about me and Toria come with you guys? That'll take the pressure off you even more. Unless the loverboy has a problem with that.”

I gave Zac a dirty look. “He isn't my loverboy. Besides, we'll just make it a friendly group thing. You won't even have to call it a date if you don't want to. Just get to know her and see if you want to really go out.”

Taylor shoved his brother away and smoothed his damp apron. “Yeah, I guess that'll work. I guess it can't be too bad, right?” 

“I promise, it'll be totally painless. And you won't even need an STD test the next day, like with your other dates,” Zac replied, then instinctively backed away from Taylor's slap.


	6. Aesthetic Distance

“I just don't know what to wear!” Whitley exclaimed, bursting through the door of my and Justine's room without even knocking. I had expected her to show up at some point in some sort of dramatic fashion so I didn't even flinch when the door was flung open. Justine was sitting in the floor working on a new painting and I was buried under a pile of clothes that would suggest that I was having the same problem as Whitley.

I looked up at her and shrugged, flinging a ruffled blouse over my shoulder. “It's no big deal, Whit. Just wear whatever. We're only going to the movies.”

She stared from the pile of clothing to me and back again. “Right. And you aren't worried at all.”

“I'm always this indecisive. It's just what I do. It's kind of a routine I just have to go through,” I replied, finally finding what I had been looking for. With a quick glance to be sure she had shut the door behind her, I pulled off my t-shirt, which bore an advertisement for a play my high school had performed, and replaced it with a tank covered in tiny roses. I suppose a lot of people would have been squeamish about changing in front of a person they barely knew; I even knew some girls on our floor who would ask their roommate to cover her eyes or leave the room while they changed into a bathrobe. But shame and modesty weren't in the vocabulary of any theatre kids I had known, and I was quite certain Whitley felt the same way.

“Well, it's not like you've got anything to be nervous for anyway, right?” Justine asked, looking up from her canvas, a blotch of blue paint on her cheek.

“Right,” I replied, throwing a gray vest on, “Zac and I are just going for moral support. But I promise you'll be fine, Whit. What you're wearing looks great.”

I wasn't lying. The peach sweater dress she was wearing looked great with her skin tone, and I was quite certain Taylor, and probably Zac too, would enjoy how short the dress was. Her legs stretched on for metaphorical miles, and I was suddenly and irrationally self-conscious about how the denim skirt I had donned made my considerably shorter legs look.

“Okay, fine. You better be right,” Whitley finally conceded, collapsing onto my bed. A second later a knock came at the door and she bolted upright, her eyes wide. I found myself a bit surprised that she didn't cry out, and the look on her face told me she was struggling not to.

I grabbed my purse from the desk and, with one last check of my makeup, walked over to the door and flung it open. I found myself face to face with Zac, looking more put together than I'd ever seen. He wore a nice pair of khaki pants with a fitted black tee, and a plaid shirt over top of that. It looked suspiciously like he had combed his hair and I thought I even smelled a hint of cologne. Taylor stood behind him, and I realized this was the first time I'd seen him outside of his Starbucks uniform. His jeans were so tight that I was convinced someone had painted them on. I raised an eyebrow slightly at his scarf and boots, but otherwise the outfit was fairly normal--just jeans and a t-shirt. 

Scooting out of the way to let the boys into my room, I spoke, “Sorry it's so crowded in here, you know how dorm rooms are. Taylor, this is Whitley. And the one in the floor is my roomie Justine.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Taylor replied, taking a small step toward Whitley. For a moment I thought he was going to stick his hand out to shake hers, but he seemed to quickly think better of it. A handshake did seem like an odd way to begin a date. Instead, he stood nervously by her side, hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth slightly. 

“Okay then. You guys ready to go?” I asked, glancing from Tay and Whitley to Zac.

Zac nodded, “Yup, I'm ready. You guys mind if I drive?”

Taylor scrunched up his nose. “Zac, your car is tiny.”

“And yours is back at your apartment. Suck it up.”

Taylor shot him another dirty look, but Zac ignored it. Zac turned to me and held his arm out goofily, “Well, let's hit the road.”

I giggled and linked my arm in his. “So you're driving, huh? You know my Jeep is big enough for all of us.”

Zac let Whitley and Taylor exit the room in front of us, then turned his head to me. “I know, but I figured this way they would have to get cozy in the backseat. Plus, I'm taking you on a date, lady. I gotta do the driving.”

I untangled myself from his arm and pushed the elevator button. “Oh, so you're gonna be like that, huh? You gonna buy my popcorn and Junior Mints too?”

“Now that's where I draw the line,” Zac replied, stepping into the elevator behind me. “You're supposed to eat M&Ms with popcorn. Everyone knows that.”

****

The car ride to the movie theater was more than a little awkward. For whatever reason, Taylor and Zac had decided on the one farthest from campus. Evidently it was Taylor's favorite and being stuffed into the backseat of Zac's Mercury Cougar made him a little testy. So the car ride, which took less than twenty minutes when all was said and done, was spent with Tay leaning over the driver's seat, pestering Zac with vague and mostly unhelpful directions. When we finally pulled into the parking lot, I sighed and relaxed into the passenger seat, momentarily contemplating just staying in the car.

I didn't even realize I had closed my eyes until a tap on the window made me jump. I turned my head and saw Zac staring at me, his face mere inches from the glass. Satisfied that I was still breathing, I supposed, he stepped back and opened the door. 

“Oh, sorry. Oh! Whitley, I'm sorry,” I stuttered, realizing that I had left Whitley stuffed in the backseat. 

She climbed out of the back as gracefully as her dress allowed and gave me a strange look but said only, “No, it's fine. I knew you wouldn't keep me stranded in there, at least not forever.”

Taylor crossed around the car and offered his arm to Whitley. I said nothing, but poked Zac in the side and motioned to toward them. He smiled back and put his arm around me. I settled into his side, liking the way he felt around me. He was warm and soft, but stronger than I expected. 

“What are we gonna watch anyway?” Taylor called out.

“Shaun of the Dead!” Zac and I both yelled, much louder than was necessary given that we were only a few feet behind the happy couple. 

As we approached the ticket booth, I looked up at Zac and, my voice low, asked, “So, what do you think of those two?”

Zac bit his lip and looked up at them. They had hurried on and were already at the front of the line. “Well, it looks like he's buying her ticket, so he isn't being a total douchebag. That's always a good sign for him. We'll just wait and see how it goes.”

I nodded, and Zac nudged me on toward the counter. He pulled his arm away and began digging through his pockets. I knew what he was trying to do, so I stepped in front of him and leaned toward the glass of the ticket booth. “Two for Shaun of the Dead, please.”

“Oh, like hell you do. I told you I was gonna treat you like a lady,” Zac replied, fishing through his wallet. 

“Ladies have money, too, you know,” I replied, digging through my purse for my own wallet. I had just pulled the money out when Zac's arm shot past me and shoved his own money under the glass. I frowned and pretended to pout.

Zac grabbed and our tickets and handed mine to me. He placed his hand on my back and lead me into the theater. “If it makes you feel better, you can buy the food. I think I want... one of everything.”

“Yeah, right. Because clearly you need it all,” I replied, gently poking his stomach. 

It was then his turn to pout. “Just for that, I'm not sharing my popcorn.”

“We'll just see about that,” I replied. “I'm gonna go on and find where Tay and Whitley are. Get me some popcorn and a Dr. Pepper?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Zac replied and offered me an exaggerated salute.

I shoved several dollars in his hand and scurried away before he could complain. The movie hadn't begun so I was able to find Whitley and Taylor with little trouble. They had sat right in the center of the theater and Taylor's long legs dangled over the railing in front of them. I took a seat next to Whitley and a few minutes later Zac joined us, just in time for the beginning of the previews. 

A half hour into the movie, I felt the familiar buzz of my phone, muffled slightly by my purse. I was glad I had remembered to switch it to silent and I carefully pulled it out of the bag to see who was calling. The screen flashed bright light and read “Mom – Mobile.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned over to Zac, showing him the phone's caller ID. My voice barely above a whisper, I told him, “I should probably answer this. I'll be back in about five minutes, hopefully.”

He nodded and squeezed himself as far into the seat as he could to let me pass. Once I was out in the lobby, I flipped the phone open, part of me hoping it had not gone to voicemail yet, and part of me hoping it had.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Vicky, baby. I just wanted to call and check in on you,” my mom said, her voice so cheerful I almost forgot that this conversation was completely out of the ordinary for us.

I bit my lip for a second in contemplation, finally replying, “That was nice of you.”

Her hesitation almost made me regret how terse I had been. “Well, Patty said you moved in the dorms a few weeks ago, and I know I should have called sooner.”

“Yeah, that would have been nice,” I replied, trying desperately to keep my tone light even if the words weren't very nice. My own mother didn't feel the need to keep up with my life except through what my aunt told her. How could I explain to her how that made me feel? 

“Well baby, you know I'm still looking for a job and--”

“And that keeps you so busy you can't pick up your phone?” I nearly growled into the phone. I could feel my voice slipping back into the thicker Southern accent that my first acting coach had tried her best to train out of me. That was a sure sign of my rising anger.

“Well, it keeps me busy,” she replied, and I could almost hear her carefully planned argument falling apart. “I wanna come visit you, though. When Jeff gets a day off work we're gonna drive up there, okay?”

I sighed into the phone, hopefully loud enough for her to hear. “Yeah, fine. Just don't let me inconvenience Jeff.”

“Now baby, you know he wants to meet you. And I want to come see how you are doing at college, too,” she said, her voice getting softer.

“Yeah, I know. Look, I'm at the movies. I need to go. I'll see you whenever,” I replied and hung up the phone before she could reply. The art of ending of phone call without saying goodbye was one my father had taught me well, though he usually did so out of sheer forgetfulness, not anger.

I was alone in the hallway and I didn't think anyone from the concession stand could see, so I did the only think I could think of. I tossed my phone against the wall across from me and slid down the wall, landing with a whimper against the carpet. From my left I heard the squeak of the theater door opening and I looked up to see Zac standing there, chewing on his lip and looking concerned.

“Toria, are you okay? You've been gone for a while and I just wanted to see if everything was okay,” he said, hovering over me.

“I'm fine,” I replied, crossing my arms. I knew I was being childish, but I couldn't help it. Sure, mom had apologized. But her words fell flat and I just didn't believe them. They didn't fix anything.

Zac slid to the floor and sat cross-legged next to me. “No you're not. I can tell. I know we just met like two weeks ago and I don't know you very well yet, but I'm not as dumb as I look.”

I looked up at him and tried not to smile. “Really? 'Cause I wasn't gonna say anything, but you look about three sandwiches short of a picnic.”

“And you sound like a total hick right now, but I kinda like you anyway,” he replied and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “So what's wrong, lady?”

“It's just my mom,” I replied, leaning my head against his chest. “I told you my parents are divorced and she moved in with my aunt? Well, two months ago she ran off to Fredericksburg with her high school sweetheart. I've only seen her once since then and she keeps making up these stupid excuses for not coming to see me.”

I could feel Zac's face pressed against the back of my head and when he spoke his breath tickled my skin a little. “Oh gosh, I'm sorry. That really sucks, Toria. But, and I know it's not the same, you've got your friends here, right? I mean, your mom will come around eventually. But you've got us so you can't be too lonely. I won't let you.”

“Good to know you're in charge of my feelings now,” I said, trying to sound angry. But I wasn't. 

“Well, fine. Just trying to be helpful,” Zac replied, feigning anger as well. I thought I could almost feel his smile against the back of my head.

I turned to look at him, “We should probably get back in there and watch the rest of the zombie apocalypse.”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” he replied. He stood up and offered me his hand. 

He pulled me up with a deftness that shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did and we walked back into the theater. When the screen flashed a brighter color, I could see Whitley and Taylor sitting more or less where we had left them. I say more or less because one of them had lifted the arm rest between their seats and Whitley was very nearly sitting in Taylor's lap. His arm was wrapped around her waist and they looked altogether quite cozy.

I looked over at Zac and I imagined that my expression was just as awestruck as his. He shook his head a little, jaw still hanging slack. Finally peeling his eyes from them, he squeezed my hand and nudged me toward two empty seats a few rows back from our previous seats.

I curled up in the seat next to him, pulling my knees to my chest. Zac lifted the arm rest and pulled me closer to him. I sighed contentedly against his side. He was perfectly warm and comfortable and I couldn't think of a place I'd rather be. I felt at home, for the first time in a year.


	7. Suspension of Disbelief

“Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend which is the mightier..”

From backstage I could hear the actors' voices, muffled only slightly by the curtain and the air conditioning. Although the theatre was rather nicely kept up, the backstage was a jumbled mess. A handful of chairs and black boxes were scattered around for actors to sit on while they awaited their entrances. I was not even a part of this scene, but I had already found that, with Dr. Ansary's slapdash approach to scheduling, it was just easier to wait my turn backstage-–well out of the reach of her temper and flying clipboards. 

Through the curtains and partially assembled flats I could spy Cecily and David and tried to think of them only as Gertrude and Claudius. I had met so many new people in the past three weeks that it was much, much easier to remember my castmates as their characters and worry about their real names later. Except for the those I had major scenes with or shared classes with, I didn't know any of their real names and for now that seemed to be working out just fine.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, careful to cover the brightness of the screen just in case it filtered through onto the stage. Pealing my hand back slightly and tilting the screen toward my face, I read the alert. One new text message, from Zac. I pushed the button that would allow me to read it.

__

_drowning yourself tonight?_

I laughed and slid down behind the stack of black boxes to be sure that no one saw my phone; we weren't supposed to use them during rehearsals, but that rarely stopped most people. Still, I was trying to be on my best behavior. Older students might get away with it, but I didn't want to take too many chances.

__

_nope but i'm thinking about marrying this hamlet guy_

The back door, leading from the green room, swung open and in the dim light I saw Donovan enter the backstage area. He pulled out his script and began pacing back and forth, his full lips moving slightly as he read through his script.

__

_dude i heard he's pretty crazy, but i guess you'll get to be queen and that's cool_

I smiled to myself, reading Zac's text. He was a total nerd. I didn't know anyone outside of the theatre who knew so much about plays. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Donovan walking toward me and I quickly finished typing my reply.

__

_mmm but he's just so hot. melancholy turns me on, you know_

Hurriedly, I flipped the phone shut before Donovan could see the message. He slid onto the floor next to me with such a smooth gracefulness. I wondered if he would notice all the sawdust he had sat in, but I didn't say anything. He glanced down at the phone in my hand and raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

“Hey, how are you doing learning those lines?” I whispered, smiling up at him and sliding the phone back into my pocket.

He looked down at his script, “It's... it's coming. I don't know why I'm having so much trouble with this play.”

“Well it is a pretty big part and Shakespeare isn't easy,” I replied, “But you're doing a really good job. Weird as it sounds, I totally believe your Hamlet.”

Donovan smiled and wrapped his arm around me. “Well, didn't anyone tell you? That's because I'm crazy.”

I knew what was coming next. He pushed a strand of my hair back and leaned in close. I could see, even in the dim light of backstage, how bright blue his eyes were. I hated blue eyes. When I closed my own eyes, he made his move. I felt Donovan's lips land on mine, soft but insistent. Much as I hadn't planned for this and wasn't sure if I wanted it, I felt myself relaxing against him. I mimicked his moves as best I could. Donovan caressed the side of my face gently and slid his tongue between my lips. My back was pressed against one of the black boxes and it was starting to hurt.

From my back pocket came the familiar buzz of my cell phone and I jumped involuntarily, bumping my elbow against the box. The motion brought me closer to Donovan and for a moment he continued our kiss. I placed a hand on his chest and gently nudged him away. 

“Sorry, my cell phone went off,” I replied, scooting back away from him. I flipped the phone open, not even feeling the need to check who the text was from.

__

_can i come over when you get done sucking hamlet's face?_

I felt my face go red and I was relieved that the dim backstage light might hide that from Donovan. Holding my phone up where he could not look over and read it, I quickly typed a response.

__

_that scene isn't in the play, silly_

“Who are you texting?” Donovan asked, leaning against my shoulder.

I held the phone closed in my hand, not wanting to see Zac's response right away. “Just a friend.”

As if to punctuate my sentence, and highlight my reluctance to tell him the truth, the screen lit up and revealed the words “1 Text Message: Zac – Mobile.” Donovan scooted away from me, and I suspected it was as much to give me privacy as it was to pout.

__

_just figured you guys would want to write that scene in_

If Donovan hadn't seen the blush creeping across my cheeks yet, I didn't know how. My entire face felt like it might catch fire any second and the feeling was spreading throughout my limbs. I made the terrible mistake of looking over at him and saw that his eyes were trained on me, probably had been the entire time.

“He was just wondering what I was doing after rehearsal,” I said, then bit my lip. That sounded far too much like a justification and I hated it.

Donovan shrugged, picking up his script. “So you guys are dating, then?”

I shook my head vigorously-–probably too much so-–and replied, “No, no. We're just friends. He has a bunch of classes with my roommate so we started hanging out.”

“Right,” Donovan said, drawing the word out so that it was almost painful to hear. “I just see you two together all the time, that's all. Looks like you're dating, especially now.”

I cringed at his accusation. Carefully, I scooted across the floor toward him, feeling the sawdust biting at my palms. “If I were dating him, I wouldn't have been back here doing _that_ with you, would I? I mean, maybe some girls would but I'm not like that. Alright?”

Donovan looked down at his hands and I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he considered what I had said. It wasn't a lie. Not a word of it. Finally he looked up. “Alright. If you say so.”

Now it was my turn to be filled with disbelief. His reply just didn't sound genuine. And why would it? He had a point. Zac and I were beginning to spend a lot of time together. He came to our room most nights to study, either with Justine or with me, as I shared an English class with him as well. Most nights, though, the studying was abandoned in favor of television shows or video games. And we ate lunch together as often as possible. But he was just a friend, of that I was absolutely certain. Although, truth be told, neither he or Donovan gave me the butterflies that I expected a potential love interest to. At least, Donovan hadn't. Until that kiss. Now I was just a jumble of confused and mixed up nerves and I couldn't sort out what it all meant. So why did I expect Donovan to believe anything I said, when I didn't even know the truth myself?

From the other side of the curtains, I heard Dr. Ansary call out act and scene numbers and I knew I was finally required for this one. I looked over at Donovan but he didn't speak. With his head buried in the script, he stood and walked toward the stage, calling out an acknowledgement to Dr. Ansary. When he was out of sight, I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick text to Zac.

__

_no kissy scenes! i'll be back in my room in like an hour :P_

The rest of the rehearsal was awkward. I was thankful that, even though we worked and reworked the same scene for the last forty-five minutes, it was one that did not require Donovan and I to speak much, at least not each other. When we did, I could hear the strain. I hoped that no one else could tell just how much I was shaken by the entire thing. If they did, I wouldn't have known quite how to explain it.

Thankfully, Dr. Ansary opted to leave the bulk of her notes for the following night's rehearsal and let us go without much comment or complaint. I gathered my things from backstage and took the exit through the green room that lead back through the rest of the Performing Arts building rather than walk back onto the stage and face Donovan again. Or anyone else in the cast for that matter. Whitley was beginning to develop a Justine-like sense for when I was upset and I wanted nothing to do with her for the moment. Although, given how enamored she had become with Taylor, I was doubtful that even she would be capable of noticing anything other than the color of his eyes or how nice his ass looked in those jeans.

The walk back to my dorm seemed to take an eternity. It was already mid-September and I didn't know how the time had managed to pass so quickly. Just as I entered the dorm and headed for the elevator, I felt my phone buzzing again. I had forgotten to turn the ringer back on before leaving the theatre. At first I assumed it was another text from Zac, but as I dug through my purse to locate it, I realized that the buzzing had continued. That meant one thing-–a phone call.

_Mom – Mobile._

I froze in place, which was not a particularly smart thing to do in the middle of a busy dormitory hallway. I hadn't spoken to my mother since the movie night almost a week previously. For some people that might have been eternity, but I was actually shocked to hear from her again so soon. My hesitance worked against me and the phone stopped ringing. 

I stabbed the elevator button until the door opened. I stepped inside and walked directly to the far wall, which I proceeded to bang my head against. In my hand, my cell phone buzzed twice to inform me of a new voicemail. 

The elevator bell dinged in my ear and I cringed at the sound. My phone began to buzz again and I realized I had no choice. Two things to do. One, listen to the voicemail. Two, get out of the damn elevator.

Stepping out onto my floor, I flipped the phone open and stabbed the green button. After the annoying robotic voice introduction, I hear my mom's voice.

“Hey Vicky, honey. Just calling to check in on you again. I just wanted to be sure you were doing okay. I hope you're not ignoring me. So please please please call me back as soon you get this, honey.”

I wanted to throw the phone again, but I knew it couldn't handle much more abuse. It had been a graduation present from my father and I didn't relish having to explain to him why it was in pieces. I unlocked the door to my room and stepped inside. For a moment I was surprised to see that Justine wasn't there. Then I remembered something about a late night study group for her biology class. I flopped down on the bed and contemplated watching television. But I knew I really should call my mother back. Leaving her hanging would do no good at all and I would only have to listen to the repercussions of that when I finally did choose to talk to her.

Reluctantly, I pulled the phone back out and pressed a few buttons to dial her number back. By the fifth ring I was mentally drafting a voicemail message that would convey just how little I wanted to speak to her. To my surprise, instead of the robotic voice, I heard the click signifying that she had answered.

“Vicky?” 

I hated that nickname. But she still used it, probably for that very reason.

“Yes, mother?”

Her sigh was barely audible. “How is school, honey?”

“It's fine, mom. Classes are tedious and theatre is the same soul-sucking beast it was in high school. Nothing I'm not used to,” I replied. 

“Well that's good, I guess,” she replied. The conversation was just so casual. Like nothing was wrong. It made me even angrier that she would try to sound so... so... normal.

We both sat in silence for a moment. Finally, I decided to break the silence. “Aunt Patty said you were thinking about coming down here to visit soon?”

“We were thinking about this weekend.” 

Not quite realizing the emphasis in her voice of verb tense, I forged on. “And you thought you'd convey your plans through her? What if I already had plans here, mom?”

“Well it doesn't matter now, anyway,” she replied, and I could hear the edge on her voice. It sounded like the pointed end of a shard of glass. Not noticeable at first, but enough to hurt if you prodded at it anyway. 

And I couldn't resist the urge to prod. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She wouldn't appreciate the language, I knew. But I figured that was the least of my concern.

“Vicky, honey... you know how busy we are. Jeff just couldn't take the weekend off,” she replied.

I rolled my eyes, even knowing that she wouldn't see it. “Really, mom. You have a car. And I promise that all the lights in Virginia won't go off just because Jeff isn't sitting at his desk for one day.”

“It's not that simple, honey.” This one prompted another eye roll. Did she think I didn't notice all the gratuitous use of pet names? Did she think it was endearing? It wasn't.

“Actually, it is. So what do you seem to think the problem is?”

“I've already told you that, Vicky. You know Jeff wants to meet you. I'm not coming down by myself, I'm going to wait until he can take off work. It wouldn't be fair to come visit you while he's stuck at the power plant.”

For a moment, I couldn't even think of anything to say. I couldn't believe she had really said it. Maybe she didn't realize the implications, but I found that hard to believe.

“Fine. Call me again when Jeff isn't busy. In fact, don't bother me again until you can fit it in his schedule.” My words were full of more venom than I thought possible. I slammed the phone shut before she had a chance to reply. I knew my message had come across loud and clear and there was absolutely no point in debating the issue. She was entirely too absorbed in herself and her brand new life with Jeff to even consider what she was doing to me. 

I didn't realize I was crying until I heard the knock at my door and had to choke back a small sob before I called out, “Come in, it's open!”

I rolled over on my bed, shoving my face deep into the pillow. I didn't even look up to see who had come in and so I jumped at the feeling of a hand pressed against my back. 

“Toria? What's wrong?” Zac's voice. Zac's soft, soothing voice.

I choked back another small sob but made no effort to extricate my face from the pillow. “Nothing. I'm fine.”

“Liar.”

The bed heaved and pitched and I wasn't certain what Zac was doing at first. I felt his knee brush against my back and it dawned on me. A weight landed softly next to me and I rolled over, lifting my head off the pillow. Zac had somehow managed to weasel his way across me to lay between my body and the wall.

“I knew you were a secret ninja assassin. No normal person could have pulled that move off,” I replied, sniffling and trying to smile.

He pushed back a strand of my hair and frowned. “You're crying. Why are you crying?”

“It's just... nothing. Nothing new, anyway,” I said, pushing his hand away.

Undaunted, he put his hand right back where it hand been and wiped away a tear that threatened to run across my nose. “Is it your mom again?”

I nodded. 

“Aww, sweetie,” Zac said and ran his hand down my arm softly, tickling the hairs. “What did she say this time?”

“She keeps putting herself and Jeff before me. I don't understand it. She's never been like this before, but ever since the divorce, she's a completely different person. Now she said she was gonna come visit but Jeff can't take off work so of course she has to stay there with him,” I blurted out, my voice cracking a little at the end.

Zac slipped his arm around me, holding gently onto the small of my back. “Can I ask... and it's totally okay if you don't wanna talk about it, but was the divorce a surprise? I mean, did you see it coming?”

I shook my head slightly, but it morphed into a nod. “I don't know. I guess. My dad has always been kinda distant, but that's just who he is. I knew they didn't always get along but they didn't really fight either. And then one day it was just over. It fell apart really slowly and silently, I guess.”

Zac nodded and pulled me closer. I could feel more tears welling up in my eyes but I tried not to let them escape. Instead, I pressed my face into Zac's shirt, hoping to muffle the tears until they would stop.

“You can cry, you know. It won't make things worse. It might even help,” Zac said softly, his hand sliding up my back to cradle my head. 

I sniffled and pulled back to look up at him. “I just want her to act like a mother again. Maybe she was tired of 18 years of it, I don't know. But I want her back.”

“I know, baby. But she'll come back. She knows she's still your mom and she'll realize it. I promise,” Zac replied.

“You don't know that,” I said.

He frowned. “No, you're right. I don't. But I do one know thing.”

“What's that?”

Zac pulled me closer to him, wrapping both his arms around me. I curled into his grasp easily. “I'm not leaving until you feel better.”

“I feel better already,” I said, smiling up at him. “But I think I'd like to sleep, just like this.”

Zac smiled and reached down to pull my covers up over us. “Hope you don't mind sleeping in pants and all.”

I shook my head. “Don't care. Long as you're here, I'm happy.”

“Great,” Zac said, and I felt him place a small kiss against my hair.

It was then that I realized I wasn't crying anymore.


	8. The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune

I woke the next morning to the odd feeling of blue jeans against the sheets and the even stranger sensations of big, strong arms wrapped around me and a body pressed against my back. Soft light was just beginning to filter through the shades so I knew it must be early, but that realization did nothing to help with my disorientation. I wiggled out of the embrace and rolled myself over, coming face to face with Zac's snores. The blurry haze of sleep started to dissipate and I remembered the night before.

Zac twitched and wiggled his nose a little, probably noticing but not totally understanding my movement. His eyes opened slowly, eyelashes fluttering several times before he finally looked at me. 

“Good morning, starshine,” he said with a small sideways grin. 

I smiled back and wiped at the corners of my eyes. I could only imagine how terrible I looked, having gone to sleep with all my makeup on. “I actually fell asleep with you here, huh?”

“Yup, sure did,” Zac replied. “I'm never doing this again, though. You snore like a freight train.”

“I do not!” I squealed, then look up at the bottom of Justine's bunk, hoping I hadn't woken her up.

Zac followed my eyes up, then looked back down at me. “Don't worry about it, I think she got up early for breakfast or something. I heard her climb down earlier and it woke me up.”

I rolled over again and glanced across the room for my clock. “Fuck, it's almost 8! I didn't set my alarm. We're gonna miss class!”

His hand reached around to caress my hair. I pushed back the covers and started to stand, but he pulled me back toward him, clutching me close to his chest. Before I could protest, he said, “Relax, Toria. Univ 101 is cancelled today, remember? No classes until one. We can sleep until you're ready for lunch.”

I relaxed under his grasp. Zac was right and I felt silly for forgetting. But I hadn't meant to fall asleep in his arms and that just threw everything all out of whack. “Gee, are you sure your appetite will hold out until then?”

“Well if it doesn't, your brains are in danger,” he replied, then made a show of pretending to chew on my skull, complete with loud zombie moans and groans.

I laughed and swatted at his face, but mostly ended up just smacking my own head. I curled up and drew the covers around my neck. People think I'm crazy for it, but I have to have the covers all over me even in the middle of the summer; I just can't sleep without being all bundled up. Maybe that's why I slept so well with Zac snuggled against me. As I curled into the fetal position, he twined his legs in with mine, twisting us into a warm, comfy human pretzel. 

It seemed like I had just closed my eyes when I felt Zac's face pressing against the side of mine. He nuzzled against my face like a kitten, his lips grazing my cheek as he said, “Wake up now, sleepyhead. For good this time.” 

Hesitantly, unwilling, I pushed the covers back and sat up. Zac raised himself onto his elbows but didn't sit up. He had already hit his head several times on the metal bars of the bunk beds and I guess he was finally learning his lesson. I brushed my fingers through my hair and looked down at him. 

“You look awful, Zac. Did you stick your finger in an electrical socket in the middle of the night?” I asked, ruffling his already quite ruffled hair.

Zac scrunched up his nose and made a face at me. “Hey, I helped you sleep through the night. You shouldn't be so mean to me.”

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding,” I said. I threw the covers off and stood up. “I don't know about you, but I need to take a shower and make myself pretty before lunch.”

“Well, I happen to already be pretty,” Zac replied, scooting toward the edge of the bed and shooting me a giant grin. 

“Sure, if you say so,” I replied, walking over to my closet and pulling a towel off the top shelf. “Seriously, I'm about to get naked. So you should leave.”

“Aww, but things sound like they're just about to get fun!” Zac said, picking up his cell phone and keys from the floor in front of my bed. I didn't even remember how they had gotten there, but I supposed he must have thrown them down before climbing into my bed the night before. It was then that I realized just how tired I must have been. When I really thought about it and forced myself to remember, I could recall the phone conversation with my mom and how Zac had come into the room and laid with me while I cried. But it was like a dream. The kind that you don't remember when you wake, but little snippets of it come to mind throughout the day, from a distance.

Zac offered me a small hug before walking out the room, calling out as he went, “I'm coming back in thirty minutes to take you to lunch, so you better be dressed by then. If you're not, I'm taking you to lunch anyway.”

True to his word, he reappeared thirty minutes later just as I was brushing out my hair for the third time. It was a nervous habit. Sometimes I would sit backstage during plays and brush my hair compulsively, if my hairdo for that play would allow it. At least I didn't count the brushstrokes like Marcia Brady, but I wasn't very far from that kind of compulsion.

“Knock knock. Are you decent?” Zac called out, peeking his head around the door, one hand covering his eyes.

“I'm never decent,” I answered, gathering up my backpack and tossing the day's books in it. “But I am fully clothed, so you can look.”

“Aww, that's a shame,” Zac replied, giggling. He uncovered his eyes and smiled at me and I just couldn't be angry about his perverted jokes. He had obviously taken a quick shower, or else he had just switched shirts and ducked his head into the sink. I wouldn't put that past him or any other college boy, really.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let's go eat,” I said and chucked an ink pen at his head. 

He ducked out of the pen's path and held out his hand to me. Normally I wouldn't have refused, but I thought back to the argument with Donovan and it gave me pause. Even though I knew it didn't mean anything, Zac and I did have a tendency to act a little more than friendly. I had been upset about that too, when my mom's phone call came in, but I had neglected to mention it to Zac. There was no reason to worry him. Which was why I pretended not to notice his extended hand and instead just picked up my keys and walked on out of the room. 

If Zac did notice, he didn't say anything. We walked to the Student Center in relative silence, but it was comfortable rather than uncomfortable. When we arrived at the food court a few minutes later, I saw Justine and Whitley already sitting at a table by the window, along with Zac's roommate Evan. I didn't really know Evan very well because when Zac and I hung out, it was usually in my room or the coffee shop. But I thought he was a nice guy. Still, it was strange for him to sit at our table. 

I could tell that everyone at the table had been talking, but a hush fell over them when I saw Evan nod his head in our direction. As soon as we were within earshot, he called out, “Glad you guys could finally join us!”

I looked over at Zac and saw a faint blush come across his cheeks. It made him look even younger than usual and for some reason that amused me. In a strange way, I thought it was cute. Cute? Zac? As soon as that thought entered my mind, I decided I must be lightheaded from skipping out on breakfast. Yes, that must be it.

Zac didn't say anything, only stuttered and set his backpack down in a chair. He nodded in the direction of the Chick-Fil-A and wandered off toward it. 

“What the hell was that about?” Evan asked, glancing around at the table. “Did I put my foot in it?”

“That was... not very Zac-like,” I said, collapsing into a chair next to Justine. 

“Apparently he's embarrassed about sleeping with you,” Whitley said, giggling. 

My mouth fell open. What had they been talking about when we walked up? “That is not what happened at all! Justine, tell them. You saw us!”

Justine looked up from her plate and her face was completely blank. “What? He _was_ in your bed.”

“Justine!” I whined. “That is not helping my case at all!”

She looked over at the other two. “But I mean, they had clothes on. I told you guys, I didn't really see anything incriminating. Snoring isn't incriminating.”

“I'm going to go get some food. And while I'm gone, you guys better stop gossiping about me and Zac. If only just to keep him from dying of embarrassment,” I said, fishing my student ID out of my purse and standing up.

I just couldn't believe it. They really thought Zac and I were together? Dating? Sleeping together? I didn't know and I didn't really want to ask. Maybe Donovan had a point in wondering about us. But it really wasn't like that, was it? I tried to shrug it off as I walked through the line at Bene Pizza. With a steaming sausage calzone at hand, I walked back to the table. Zac had returned before me and I could tell that Evan was giving him a hard time about last night. His face was turning brighter and brighter red, and I thought he looked just a little bit angry, too.

“Guys, will you lay off Zac? Nothing happened last night,” I said, sitting back down next to him.

Crunching a potato chip, Whitley asked, “Well, you did sleep together. That's not nothing, you know.”

Zac clenched and unclenched his fist, and I could hear him breathing heavier. I placed a hand on his back, hoping to calm him a little. He loosened his fist and began tapping his fingertips against the table. Finally, he looked up at everyone. “Nothing. Happened. Toria was having a bad night, alright? She needed me to be there for her and I just fell asleep there. That's all. She's seeing that theatre nerd guy, anyway.”

“Oh yeah? Thought I warned you about him,” Whitley said, raising an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes. “I don't know. We kind of had a date. I guess. We ran lines together. We'll see where it goes.”

“I've got a pretty good idea where it's gonna go,” Whitley replied. 

“See, everyone knows what's going on with you and him,” Zac teased, nudging me with his shoulder. I was glad to see he was joking around, even if he did still look a little upset. But his words weren't all that funny, given that I had suddenly lost all concern for what people thought about Donovan and I. 

“Hey, Victoria.”

Well, speak of the devil. 

Everyone at the table turned around to look in the direction of the voice. I didn't need to look up to recognize the voice, but when I did I saw that Donovan was only a few feet from the table, a smile plastered on his face as though he hadn't left rehearsal upset with me the night before. 

“Oh, hey Donovan,” I said, trying to sound friendly and casual, but keenly aware of the fact that I was shaking. I hoped Zac didn't notice.

He stood next to me, looking awkwardly down at the table. “I was just wondering if you were going to the party at Kelsey's place tomorrow?”

I wracked my brain to remember who Donovan was talking about. For a moment I didn't even think I knew anyone by that name, then I remembered my brother. My brother Laertes, that is. The actor playing him was a senior named Kelsey and I had heard mention of parties at his house. 

I realized that Donovan was just staring at me and no one else at the table was speaking. I shook my head and replied, “No, I don't think so. I wasn't really invited.”

“That's why I came over here. To invite you,” Donovan said, smiling. He hesitated for a second, then added, “Actually, all of you guys are invited. It's pretty laid back. If you're all friends of Whitley and Toria, you're definitely welcome.”

I looked over at everyone else and I saw Justine shaking her head discretely. I knew she had never been one for partying. Being in the theatre, I had been to quite a few unofficial cast parties over my high school years. But a college party would be different, wouldn't it?

Zac nudged me again and I looked back up at Donovan. “I'll think about it, alright? But it sounds like fun.”

Donovan smiled that heart-melting smile that I'm sure had won many girls over. “Great. I'll look for you there. If you don't have fun, we can always go somewhere else and chill. I'll see you at rehearsal.”

With that, he turned and walked away. I didn't realize I had been staring at his retreating form until Zac poked me in the side, hard. 

“What?”

“We can always go somewhere else and chill?” He asked, drawing invisible quotation marks around the words and affecting a fake lisp. 

I frowned. “That is _not_ what he sounds like!”

“But he did invite you to the party. And he definitely had other intentions,” Justine pointed out.

I sipped my soda and ignored everyone for a moment. “Alright, look. I'll go. But he invited you guys too, so I think some of you should come with me. That's the only way I can deal with this.”

“Love to, but I think I have plans with Taylor,” Whitley said. 

“You think?” I asked, glad for anything to divert the conversation to another topic.

She shrugged. “It's nothing definite yet, but we talked about going out.”

“Well I'm free,” Zac said, “I think it sounds like tons of fun. I love a good party. And if Donovan turns into a total creeper, I'll be your bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard? I don't need a bodyguard. God, you all need to relax. I can take care of myself with this guy, I'm just nervous about going to a party with tons of people I don't know.”

Zac wrapped his arm around me. “I'm kidding, alright? I know you can. Still sounds like fun. You couldn't keep me from going if you tried.”

“Well then I suppose it's handy that I'm not going to try. I think drunk Zac sounds like he could be a fun guy,” I said. With a smile that I knew would annoy him, I added, “At least, he couldn't be any worse than regular Zac.”


	9. The Whirlwind of Passion

There was only the slightest chill in the air when we left the dorm and set off toward the party Friday night. Whitley had no trouble convincing Taylor to join us, and they skipped merrily down the street together. She knew the way to Kelsey's house already, so Zac and I followed behind her. His house was, as I had heard her say several times, only a short walk from campus, but I was still glad to know I would have Zac with me for the inevitable late night stumble back to campus.

As it turned out, Whitley was right. I hadn't kept count, but it seemed like we had only walked about ten or fifteen minutes when we arrived at the house. It was just a few streets over from the campus but it felt like a completely different town. We were suddenly in a very residential area, standing in front of an old red brick house that looked like it could have been around since the early days of Richmond. The muffled throb of some anonymous hip hop song filtered out of the house and into the street and I could see shadows moving behind the curtains. Whitley and Taylor, old veterans to college parties, had already gone bounding up the steps and into the din. 

I looked up at Zac and he smiled back at me. He gave my hand a squeeze and said, “Well? Let's get this party started. It'll be fun, right?”

I nodded. After all, I had been to parties before. Sure, a college party would be different from a high school drama club party. But it wouldn't be anything I couldn't handle, I figured. I looked down and smoothed my tight t-shirt, adjusted my mini skirt and gave Zac another nod. 

With a hesitant smile, I said, “Let's do this thing.”

As we walked up the steps, he slowly let my hand slip out of his. I guess it made sense, knowing that we were walking into a party where my sort-of boyfriend would most definitely be. But I liked the comfort of having Zac by my side, at least for a while. He could let my hand go when I was with Donovan. As long as it was just he and I together, I wanted Zac as close to me as I could get him. 

He reached over my head and pushed the door open and I was assaulted by the heat of the house and the thick smell of alcohol in the air. The music pounded at my ears, making my head swim even though I was still very sober. 

Zac leaned in close to my ear and nearly yelled to be heard over the cacophony, “I think I see some guys from my floor. I'm gonna go hang out with them for a while. You'll be okay alone, right?”

I nodded, figuring that was easier than trying to make my voice heard. With one last smile Zac turned away from me and waved his arm in the air, in the direction of a group of guys clustered around the fireplace. I saw one guy wave back and Zac walked away. 

So that was it. All alone, at my first college party. I almost laughed out loud, realizing the irony in thinking I was alone in a room full of people. Many of them did look familiar and I knew a few of their names – other actors and members of the play's technical crew, and various other members of the numerous arts programs at the university. 

I stood in place for a moment, just taking in the scene all around me. A group of people gathered on a couch to my left were engaged in a very intense card game that I assumed involved alcohol in some way. All around the room were couples and clusters of people doing what I supposed passed for dancing, but mostly just looked like wobbling and occasional gyrating. No one was following the same beat, and I didn't think any of them were anywhere near the actual beat of the song, which I thought was pretty impressive for a party that likely contained many musicians.

After a few minutes of people watching, I realized that I must look rather silly just standing still in the middle of it, and decided to head for the kitchen. It was at least a little less crowded in there and I could breathe much easier. The lighting was a little bit brighter as well, but only just enough to make sure that everyone could pour their drinks without too much spillage.

“Victoria! You made it!” Donovan's voice called out, and I had to look around a while before I saw him emerging from a crowd of people in a hallway branching off the kitchen toward some other part of the house.

I found an open swatch of the kitchen counter and planted myself against it. “Yeah, I did. We didn't know how to get here, so Whitley had to lead the way.”

The tiniest hint of anger flashed across his face, as I suppose he considered the implications of the word “we.” There wasn't really any doubt as to who I could have been referring to. It wasn't like I had that many friends aside from Whitley, Taylor, Justine and Zac. Thankfully, Donovan must have decided to ignore the obtuse reference to Zac. 

“Have you had a drink yet? Want me to fix one for you?” He asked, walking to the fridge before I even had a chance to answer. 

Donovan pulled out a bottle of something that looked like rum, but I couldn't see the label, and another bottle of some sort of fruit juice. He turned to the counter next to me and fished through a cabinet for a plastic cup. He poured the two liquids into the cup and handed it to me, looking quite satisfied with his handiwork. I lifted the cup to my mouth and took a tiny sip, just to test the waters. Donovan had already turned back to the fridge to retrieve a beer.

With a second sip, I discovered that it was indeed rum-–always my alcohol of choice at our little cast parties. The drink was very strong, and I could tell that I would soon be very much not sober. Donovan turned back to me with a smile on his face and I took the chance to actually look at his face. His features were clouded over and I realized just how much he had had to drink. Something about his devotion to the theatre made him seem so serious and staid; I didn't expect him to really be that much of a partier. 

Then again, I supposed I wasn't necessarily the type of person you would expect to see at a party, yet there I was. I relaxed against the counter, glad to have a solid surface to hold me up as I sipped on my drink. 

“So is this what you guys do every weekend? It's a nice place to party, I guess.”

Donovan nodded, setting down the beer can he had already managed to empty. “Yeah, Kelsey rents the place and a bunch of other guys from the theatre stay here too. We party almost every weekend like this. Sometimes it gets pretty wild, like this time. But it's always fun no matter what, don't you think?”

“I haven't really been to a party like this before,” I replied, looking down into my rapidly emptying cup. “High school parties weren't really like this. But I think I could get used to it.”

He reached a hand out and brushed a piece of my hair back off my face. A voice somewhere in the back of my mind commented on how much of a cheesy chick flick move that was, and I knew what was coming next. He wrapped his hand around the back of my head, the other hand sneaking its way onto my waist and pulling our bodies closer together. I had to quickly move my cup out of the way lest I spill my drink down his shirt. I closed my eyes and braced for Donovan's kiss. He was sloppy, probably a side effect of the alcohol, and I tried to ignore the stale taste of beer in his mouth.

When his hand started to creep up my side, tugging at my shirt, I was thankful to hear a voice calling out his name. It saved me the trouble of having to push him away. Not that I didn't _want_ him to touch me, but it was just not the right time or place. Getting groped against the kitchen counter at a party? Not exactly what I had pictured when I thought about my first college boyfriend. If that's even what he was.

“Donovan! Donny, hey! When did you get here?”

I tip-toed to look around him and saw some guy I didn't know waving his arms around, sloshing beer all over the room, as he walked toward Donovan. 

“Hey, Carter! I thought I said hey to you when I came in?” Donovan said, turning to face the other boy. 

The boy, evidently named Carter, laughed loudly. “I don't know, man. I don't know. It's good to see you. Did you know Layla is here? She came in for the weekend.”

I frowned, trying to remember where I had heard that name before. Maybe the other actors had mentioned her, someone who graduated the year before? I thought I saw a Donovan's face tense a little, but he quickly turned it to one of the most fake smiles I'd ever seen.

“So who's the chick, Donny?” Carter asked, giving Donovan one of those sleazy elbow nudges.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at just how pathetic it was, and I looked up at Donovan instead. He looked down at me, then back at Carter, as though he were coming to some sort of decision. Finally, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him.

“This is Victoria,” he replied. “My girlfriend.”

His words felt like a wave of hot water crashing down on me. I wondered if he felt me tremble, but he didn't show any signs of reacting. His girlfriend? Was I? If that's the way he wanted to think of me, I supposed I would let him. I didn't know what else to do. I tried to focus, or at least look like I was focusing, on what the two boys were saying, but my head was spinning too quickly. 

Donovan turned back to me and leaned in close to my ear. It was a little quieter in the kitchen so he didn't need to raise his voice for me to hear. “I'm gonna go say hi to some people, but I'll come back and find you later, babe.”

Something about his words, the way he slurred them or the underlying meaning that I knew was there but wanted to ignore, made me shiver. I wasn't ready for this at all. He placed a wet kiss on my cheek and I felt my body relaxing a little even though my mind was still swimming. As Donovan walked away, I downed the rest of my drink in one gigantic gulp. I turned back to the counter and poured myself another one, this time with more rum. I took a big sip and was pleased to feel the soft burn of the liquor overpowering the orange pineapple sweetness of the juice.

The room had taken on a pleasing spin, assuring me that the alcohol was working its way through my system as it should. I stumbled out of the kitchen, deciding that it was time to do a little exploring. Maybe I could make a few new friends or get to know some of these people better. They were all the artsy types, so I was certain I'd be seeing a lot of them all during my college career. It was time to start making friends.

I turned the corner into the hallway, placing one hand against the wall to steady myself and gripping my cup in the other hand, doing my best not to tip it over. I stumbled my way down the hallway, just observing everything around me. There were several closed and likely locked doors, and I could only imagine what they contained. Everywhere I wandered through the house, I was greeted by smiling faces and looks of half-recognition.

“Victoria! I didn't know you were coming!” A voice called out from somewhere on the landing of the second floor.

I swiveled around, trying to find the source, and finally pinpointed it to Cecily, the actress playing Gertrude. “Hey, I just got invited yesterday! It was kind of a surprise thing for me too.”

She squeezed past a few people I didn't recognize. “Oh, who invited you? These parties are such a regular thing that I forget to ask the new people. Sorry, dear.”

“Oh don't worry about it,” I replied, taking another swig of my drink. “Donovan invited me.”

Cecily nodded slowly and a small smile crept across her face. “Oh, he would. Sometimes I don't know what we're going to do with that boy.”

I tried to resist the urge to roll my eyes. How many times had I heard that comment or something similar to it? I didn't know how to respond to it, especially not in my current condition. I looked down into my cup, hoping Cecily would say something else so I wouldn't have to think of a response. It didn't look like that was going to happen, so I just nodded and said, “Yeah, well... he seems like a nice guy, I guess.”

“Oh, he's nice enough,” Cecily replied, that knowing smile still plastered across her face. “Well, I should go. I need a refill.”

I nodded, biting my lip. That had been exceedingly awkward, although I didn't really think that was her intention. It seemed like no one realized what they were really implying when they made those statements about him. I was still staring into my cup, probably looking quite like it had just kicked my puppy. I took another large gulp of the drink, nearly spilling it when someone bumped into me. 

“TORIA! I'm so sorry! I didn't meant to do that,” Zac slurred, his hand coming to rest against my hair.

I relaxed a little, glad that it had been him and not some stranger who had bumped into me. “Hey, Zac. Are you having fun here?”

He grinned stupidly and I realized just how drunk he was. “Mmm, tons of fun. I'm so glad I found you, Tor. I feel like I haven't seen you in years!”

“Zac, we've only been here for like an hour,” I replied, laughing softly. I shouldn't have been so drunk after only such short a time, but my vision was blurring and my head felt full of static.

“I know, but I missed yoooouu! You're my best friend,” Zac said, his words coming out in a slurred jumble. 

He fell against my chest, giggling madly. I backed into the wall to keep my knees from buckling under the weight of his body. This only seemed to amuse Zac even more. His big warm hands clutched my waist and at first I thought it was only to help keep his balance, to keep the two of us from collapsing into one ridiculous heap of alcohol-laden limbs. I could see that he was leaning in close to me, his chest pressing tight against mine and his breath heavy on my cheek. But I couldn't process the meaning of it. Not until I felt his lips against mine. They were soft and his kisses were almost gentle, nothing like Donovan's. I felt myself relaxing against him, unable to resist it. His hands rested against my waist, pulling me even closer to him and I tangled my hands in his hair. 

We bumped against the wall as Zac shifted to press his lips against my jawline. He laid soft but urgent kisses against my jaw and down onto my neck, drifting toward the neckline of my shirt. Barely, almost imperceptibly, he nipped at my throat, his teeth almost tickling my skin. He pulled back and laid his head down against my shoulder, nuzzling against the curve of my neck.

“Mmm, you're my bestest friend ever,” he mumbled against my neck, his voice soft and low. His lips brushed against my skin as he spoke and it made me shiver a little. 

I didn't know what to do. It felt like all of Zac's weight was pressing on me, holding me to the wall. Somehow, in a strange way, I was grateful for that. It kept me from toppling over, at least. I didn't even try to understand what was happening. All I could be certain of was that he felt wonderful so close to me and that my drink was spilled on the floor, the rum and juice dripping on my feet. The party continued to move around us, bodies rushing by, not noticing us at all. And really, a couple making out against a wall wasn't anything out of the ordinary. A couple. Making out. No. No. We weren't either of those things, we couldn't be.

Zac ran his fingers up my side, tickling my ribs. His hand came to rest just below my bra and he pressed his lips against mine again. I moaned a little as his tongue slid across my lips, gently but insistently parting them and slipping into my mouth. One of Zac's hands started to play at the hem of my shirt, threatening to creep up my bare skin, and my knees felt turned to jello. I couldn't breathe. 

“Zac!” I heard Taylor's voice call out. I had forgotten that one annoying thing about parties – every conversation or interaction would always get interrupted. Always.

Reluctantly, I pushed Zac away, and at first he seemed not to realize what was happening. He continued to place small kisses along the side of my mouth, his hands still tugging at my shirt. 

“Zac, your brother...” I couldn't think of how to end that sentence. How to acknowledge what we were doing, so I just let the words trail off and the thought hang in the air, unsaid. The elephant in the room.

“Hey Zac, Toria!” Taylor called out, slapping a hand on Zac's shoulder. I could tell by the way he wobbled that he had been drinking quite a bit too. “How are you guys?”

Giggling, Zac leaned back against Taylor and replied, “I'm kinda drunk, Tay.”

“No shit,” Taylor said, laughing. “I'll see you guys later, alright? I gotta go find Whitley.”

Taylor gave Zac another pat on the shoulder, then walked away. I wondered if he would tell anyone what he had seen of us, if anything at all. Maybe he had been too drunk to really care or notice.

Zac collapsed against me again, and nuzzled his face in my hair. “I think we should go back to the dorm... I may have had a drink too much to little. Umm...”

I giggled and squeezed his hand. “I think you may have. Am I gonna have to carry you back?”

“We'll probably need to carry each other, but that isn't really possible,” he said, laughing wildly and attempting to pick me up but ending up just tickling my sides and sending us nearly tumbling into the floor. I braced myself against the wall to avoid ending up in the puddle of rum that I had suddenly remembered. 

“Okay, Zacky. Let's get out of here,” I said, and wrapped my arm around him. 

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, offering me a mock salute and wrapping his arm around me as well. 

We started down the stairs in a drunken version of lockstep, stumbling and doing our best to hold each other up. I thought we might have passed Donovan but I couldn't be certain; neither my eyes nor my mind seemed able to focus on anything but Zac and the way it felt to be near him in that moment. 

To be completely honest, the entire walk back to our dorm passed by in a blur of lights and traffic. I remember falling through the door into my room, thankful that Justine hadn't locked it. Zac crossed the room in four large stumbles and collapsed onto my bed, attempting to wiggle out of his pants while laying face down on the mattress. With some difficulty, I unzipped and removed my skirt and pulled my top off, replacing it with a worn t-shirt plucked from the laundry basket. 

Zac lay on the bed with his hands outstretched toward me and I briefly wondered how much of my unintended strip show he had seen. I shook my head to clear it of those thoughts and instead mused on how adorable he looked reaching out for me. I climbed into the bed next to him and curled up into his arms. He had somehow managed to remove his pants and I liked the feeling of our bare legs tangling together underneath the covers. I wanted to say something to him, anything at all. But I thought words might ruin the moment and when I looked up, I could see that he was already asleep, snoring softly against my forehead.


	10. Half Shame, Half Glory

When I woke the next morning, my bed felt miles wide and terribly empty. I fumbled around, my hands tangling in the covers and coming up with nothing but flannel and stuffed animals. The events of the night before came rushing back into my mind like a movie played in fast forward and I couldn't find the pause button. The bed was empty. Zac was gone. I felt sick and I was pretty sure there was more working against my stomach than the night before's alcohol. 

When I finally managed to pry myself from the bed, I saw that Justine was already up and working on some drawing. She must have been at it for a while, because her hands were covered in charcoal and her face wore a look of sheer frustration. It looked like she might bite clear through her bottom lip before she finished whatever project she was working on. I cleared my throat to get her attention and she looked up at me with a forced smile.

“Sorry if I woke you up. I've been so worried about getting this project done that I woke up early to start on it. I didn't hear you come in last night at all,” Justine said.

I grabbed a pair of jeans from the floor and attempted to pull them on, all while still sitting on the edge of my bed. “So I guess you didn't see Zac come in? Or leave?”

Justine frowned and I wasn't sure if the gesture was directed toward me or the drawing in front of her. She stared at the drawing pad for a few moments longer, then glanced up at me and shook her head. “No. Zac was here?”

I nodded. “I... I don't really know how it happened. We came back from the party and just sort of collapsed here. We keep doing that, don't we? Not the party stuff necessarily, but the sleeping together-–I mean. Not like that! I give up.”

Justine tossed her drawing pad aside. “I give up too. This drawing just isn't working. I wonder if Zac is having more luck with his? Or if he's even started. So, what's the deal with you guys?”

“I don't know!” I cried out. “I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. It's just, I really don't know. I don't know what's going on at all. It really was just friendly until last night. And that's what he said, he said I was his best friend... Justine, I really don't know.”

“He said you were his best friend... _when?_ I mean, what were you guys doing?” She asked, her eyes wide. 

“Not that! No... we just cuddled here, that's all. But... he kissed me,” I replied.

Justine's eyes were still wide. We always joked that she could never be an actress because her face always betrayed what she was feeling even when she tried to hide it. She nibbled on her bottom lip a little before asking, “So, what about Donovan?”

“I don't know. I wish I had answers to some of this stuff,” I replied. “Donovan is so charming and, and I don't know. Not really like any guy who's ever been interested in me. And he called me his girlfriend. I guess I do like the attention. And Zac is just Zac. He's just sweet and dependable and comfortable. I wouldn't have really thought of him like that at all until... well, he kissed me first. And I couldn't stop him.”

Picking at her fingernails, which were no doubt as caked with charcoal as the rest of her hands, Justine replied, “Well honey, I don't know what to tell you. You need to figure all this stuff out, though. I wish I could help but it's really all up to you. You know who you want to be with. And if you don't, you need to figure it out or not be with either of them.”

I sighed and threw myself back onto the bed. Justine was right. I had to figure things out or it would just get worse. But to say that was easier than to do it.

****

I didn't see Zac or Donovan for the rest of the weekend. That was mostly by design, as I spent most of my time sitting alone in my room working on homework. That was a little bit overkill. I certainly did have a lot of reading to complete for my classes and I always needed to continue running lines to make sure I was ready for off-book on the first act of the play. But I was playing the part of the hermit to the best of my ability. Justine let me know, in no uncertain terms, that my hermit act was driving her insane and that I just needed to stop being so pitiful.

Again, her advice was easier said than done.

Monday evening was unusual. For once, I didn't actually have rehearsal. I had skipped lunch in any of the on campus restaurants just in case I ran into Zac, and I hadn't sat near him in class. By 6 o'clock that evening, I was starving and feeling desperately alone. Justine had run off to the studio to give herself some time and privacy away from me to finish up her art project. I nearly jumped out of my skin when my cell phone buzzed, announcing a new text message.

_are you done avoiding me yet?_

It was from Zac. That shouldn't have surprised me at all. I typed out a quick reply, making sure it was as non-committal as possible.

_i'm pretty lonely here so i guess so_

A moment later, his response came.

_can we hang out? are you busy?_

I sighed. For a few minutes, I stared at the phone, incredulous. Did I want to see him? I didn't know. But I didn't know how to say no to him. Finally, I typed a response and sent it off.

_no i'm not busy, you can come over_

Within seconds, my phone buzzed to announce his reply.

_sweet, open your door_

I read the message three times and I still didn't realize what he meant. Then I heard a knock at the door. Shaking my head, I walked over to the door and flung it open. Zac stood there, phone in hand, backpack over his shoulder and looking quite sheepish. I wondered why he would want to come hang out with me when he was obviously in the middle of doing homework himself.

“Well, can I come in or are you just going to stare at me?” He asked, looking almost apologetic for his sarcasm.

“Actually I was thinking we could just stand here in the doorway and look really awkward? Maybe we could even have a huge argument for everyone who walks by to see. I'm sure they need the entertainment, you know. Should I punch you or just slap you across the face?” I replied, giving him a small smile so he would know that I was mostly joking.

He laughed, but it came out a small breathy noise, almost strangled. “If I'm gonna get a black eye, I want to earn it.”

I didn't have time to reply to that or even fully process his meaning before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. This kiss was much more forceful than his drunken ones from the Friday before. He cupped my face in his calloused hands and I couldn't have pushed him away if I had wanted to. And I hated the realization that I didn't want to. It took all my restraint to keep from parting my lips under his pressure, and I felt my stomach turning somersaults as he ran his tongue along my bottom lip.

He pulled back and smiled at me, looking more smug and self-satisfied than I could ever remember seeing him. I did want to punch him. I wanted to punch him and push him away and slam the door in his face. 

But I didn't do any of those things.

I stared at him and stammered. I don't think I formed a single word. It felt like we must have stood there suspended in silence, his face smug and mine aghast, for minutes. Maybe it was only seconds. Maybe it was hours. None of that mattered. Finally, not knowing what else to do, I kicked the door open with my foot and walked backward into the room, my eyes still on him. I felt like Ophelia taking my leave of Hamlet, yet knowing he would follow me. So he wasn't my Hamlet. Was he Romeo? Maybe I should just start thinking of people as people and not actors on a stage.

But if I wasn't an actor on a stage, playing a part, what would I be? How would I get myself through the day without everything crumbling around me? 

I couldn't think of those questions. It wasn't time for that. I plopped down my bed and flipped on the television. Some new show was on-–Veronica Mars or something like that-–and I hadn't seen a single episode but I decided to watch it intently. It was a distraction from Zac; a greatly, greatly needed distraction. Then I felt like a horrible hostess, inviting him into my room and leaving him standing awkwardly, hands in his pockets, while I pretended to watch some show I'd never seen before. 

“Are you going to say anything or should I just go?”

I looked up at Zac and realized that, though his words had been confident, his face had lost all its smugness. I sighed. “I thought you came here to talk to me. I don't know, maybe you should leave.”

“Maybe I should. But I don't want to.” He took one hesitant step toward my bed.

“Then don't.” I sat in the center of my bed, not scooting over to give him any room.

He finally plunged in, looking terrified. Like a sky diver realizing a second too late that his parachute might not work. With three more steps, he came to my bed and sat down, close to my side. I didn't budge. He tossed his backpack in the floor and I watched him deflate before my eyes. He seemed to shrink to half his size and I was certain that without a doubt, that kiss, and my reaction to it, had taken all of his confidence and left him with nothing. I almost felt bad. But he didn't know what he had taken from me with it, and that thought alone kept me from throwing myself into his arms and apologizing for wrongs I hadn't even committed.

“Look, I'm a horrible, stupid person,” Zac said, still sitting too close for comfort.

“It feels like that isn't a complete thought,” I replied.

Zac frowned. “It isn't. I'm a horrible person because, after everything I've done, I have a favor to ask you.”

I sucked in my breath and I felt my face go hot. A favor? After everything? I couldn't believe it. More than anything, I couldn't believe what I heard myself saying in response. “Okay, what is it?”

“You know that art project? Justine's been working on hers like crazy,” Zac said. 

I could see where he was going with that and I nodded, unable to formulate a better reply.

“Well I've been trying to do mine. For days I've been trying. But it just isn't working and I need your help,” he said, then looked down at his hands, seemingly embarrassed.

“It's due tomorrow, isn't it?”

He nodded slowly, still not looking up at me.

“Well that's waiting until the last minute. And what do you want me to do? I'm not an artist.”

He looked up, chewing his bottom lip intently. My heart fluttered. I never thought I would actually think those words or that such a feeling would ever happen to me. He looked precious, so sad and worried and that damned bottom lip – I had to stop myself, had to derail my train of thought. 

“Well? What do you want from me?”

Wrong question, Toria. Really the wrong question. A question I didn't want to know the answer to.

“I was just hoping you would model for me,” he said, his voice small and meek.

I baffled myself again with my reply. “I can do that. I guess. If it's really what you want.”

Zac smiled hesitantly. “It is. You'd be a great model. Even that little sketch I did of you in crayon turned out pretty good, just because it was your face.”

He looked almost embarrassed that he had said that out loud and I was embarrassed just to have heard it. I smiled to let him know that I did appreciate the sentiment. “Well alright, what do you want me to do? Should I pose?”

He jumped up and looked like he wanted to start pacing around the room. “Umm, well it's a project about shadows. So I can turn off the lights and maybe turn on your lamp? And then if you sit at your desk I can get some nice shadows on your face. Oh! Or in the floor. Definitely sit in the floor. You don't really have to do anything, just sit there while I draw.”

I frowned, and contemplated the thing. On the whole, it would be fairly painless. Tedious and boring, but I could do it. I nodded. “Alright. I think I can handle that.”

He smiled and lunged for his backpack, then sat in the floor to dig through it. He seemed to dive almost head first into the bag, then came back up to breathe, clutching a large pad of paper and his pencil pouch. The pouch, minus the Swan Song sticker he'd slapped on it, reminded me of elementary school and it made me smile to see Zac with something so childish. It suited him, in a weird way.

I settled myself into the floor and tried to get comfortable. Wasn't it always the way of things? When you try to get comfortable, you just can't. I smoothed down my dress, tugged on the sleeves of the tee I wore under it and combed my fingers through my hair. I still felt as far from at ease as I ever had. Being on stage was like second nature, but staring one person down and having them stare back was like walking into a room without my clothes. Especially if that one person was Zac-–the person who had developed the annoying trait of making me feel totally revealed anyway. Now I felt like he was stripping away every layer-–clothes, skin and all. Completely down to the brittle bone. I scratched an annoying itch just above my eyebrow and tried to think of anything, anywhere, anyone else. 

Zac smiled, and I guessed-–no, knew-–that he felt my discomfort. He dug through his blue pouch and pulled out a handful of pencils in different sizes, and something that looked like a ball of silly putty.

Sensing my confusion, he held it up. “It's an eraser. You can knead it like silly putty or a stress ball or something. Here, you can play with it. I've got a bunch more erasers. I go through them really fast.”

He tossed me the eraser and I began kneading it. It was nice to have a little distraction from the task at hand. I wondered if he was as stressed by everything as I was. It would be ironic if the subject of the drawing was more nervous than the artist, I suppose. But maybe not. I'd never really done this before, with anyone but Justine, except for the first night that Zac drew me. And circumstances between us were different then. I tried just to focus on the silly putty eraser and ignore everything else.

Zac stared at me for a moment, looking to be in deep contemplation. Finally, he picked up a pencil and started to draw. He would occasionally glance up from the paper and spend another moment staring at me, chewing on his lip and almost frowning. I hoped he was frowning about something on the canvas and not something on my head. After a few minutes, he seemed to fall into a rhythm, switching back and forth between different pencils and shoving the extras behind his ears. He barely picked up an eraser at all and I supposed that was probably a good thing. 

Under his breath, he started to hum softly. I couldn't quite pick out the words, but I liked the way it sounded. I had no idea he had such a nice voice, but I guess it shouldn't have taken me by surprise. Zac just seemed to be a never ending font of talents. 

“What's that song?” I asked. 

He started and one pencil fell out of his hair onto the floor. He didn't speak.

“Sorry, I probably should stay quiet. You know that's easier said than done for me. But I didn't recognize that song and I just wondered what it was,” I said, digging my fingernails into the putty eraser.

He sat still, pencil suspended in midair. “Oh, it's just something I wrote.”

“You wrote it? Sorry, I'm shutting up.”

He nodded, diving back into the drawing. “Yup. Me and Taylor play together, we've kind of got a band. Isaac-–that's our older brother-–plays with us too, but not much. It was mostly just while me and Taylor were in high school. I'm always writing songs though.”

“That's really cool. I'd love to hear you guys play, you know. Okay, seriously. Shutting up this time.” With that, I mimed zipping my lips, and for good measure, locking them and tossing away the key as well.

Zac smiled that wonderful sideways smile, but didn't look up from his canvas. He cleared his throat and began to sing again. This time I really did keep quiet so I could concentrate on his voice.

“So small, yet still so proud. At night before he dreams he looks into the clouds. A high flyer's what I want to be, seems they won't let me. Says I'm too small. I don't feel small at all...”

The longer he sang, the louder and prouder his voice became. He sang snippets of what I supposed were at least three different songs, all slow and sweet, and I focused on his voice to the point that I forgot completely about the drawing. When he stopped singing, the silence was deafening. I felt like I had been in a trance.

“Well. I'm done,” Zac said, setting down the drawing pad on his lap. He reached up to scratch his head and began digging out the pencils that had accumulated in his hair.

It took a moment for me to totally register what he had said. I had gotten so caught up in his songs that I had really forgotten about the drawing. When it dawned on me that he had finished it, I relaxed and let my shoulders drop. “Great! Can I see it?”

He nodded and picked the drawing pad up, holding it up in front of his face. He peaked around the corner and said, “Well? What do you think? It kind of looks like you, right?” 

It did look like me, if I were some shadowy, half-goddess model. He had drawn a piece of hair over my eyes that wasn't really there; I think it would have annoyed the hell of out me to sit there with some strand over my left eye for that long. And my hair had a wave to it in his drawing that I was quite certain wasn't really there. But the essence of me was in there somewhere, somewhere in the deep set eyes and high cheekbones, and the tiny little mouth I could barely keep shut. I guess it was how Zac saw me. 

“Wow! That's really good. I love it. You need to quit hiding all your talents from me, Mister.”

He set the pad back down and inched closer to me. “I'm not that good, it's just that you're fun to draw. Can I be honest?”

I nodded, though I had no idea what he was going to say and I was almost fearful for what it could be.

“I kept trying to draw other stuff for this project. Still lives and stuff, but they all sucked. And I just got frustrated with all of them and kept drawing little sketches of you. That's why I figured I should just come here and ask you to model for me,” he said, the words spilling out of his mouth in an almost-whispered jumble.

“That's really... strange. Strange and sweet.” I smiled and leaned forward to put my hand on Zac's knee. It was an awkward gesture, like you'd do to someone who just found out their kitten had been run over. But I didn't know what else to do or say.

“Well, that's me, isn't it? Strange and sweet,” Zac said, grinning. The grin faded quickly and he added, “And I wanted to apologize for being such a twat.”

“You're a twat?”

“I'm a twat.”

“Somehow I had failed to notice that fact. Well, I suppose you have some twat-like tendencies but usually your cuteness overpowers them.” 

Did I _really_ say that? This was what that boy did to me. He disarmed me. Not in the alarming and nerve-racking way that Donovan did, but in a way that I didn't even notice until it was too late to take back the things I had said or done. In a way that was subtle and slow and creeping. 

In a way that didn't really feel like lust or a schoolgirl crush.

Oh, fuck.


	11. The Very Ecstasy of Love

I stared at Zac in shock. I couldn't believe what I had just said. Or the realization that had struck me. I didn't even have the strength to stammer, so I sat slack-jawed and wide-eyed, hoping he would say something. 

He didn't speak.

He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to him, crushing our lips together in another kiss. This time I didn't fight back. I couldn't fight back. He wrapped his arms around me and I raised mine up to cradle his head, tangling my fingers in his shaggy hair. A tiny moan escaped my lips as Zac slid his tongue across them slowly, then applied a little pressure to part them. His tongue slipped inside my mouth and I could taste the fruity sweetness of bubblegum.

I wanted to be closer to him. Our tongues intertwined, desperate and searching. I climbed into his lap, tangling my legs around his, just to close the gap between us. Our bodies were touching all over. For a moment I forgot that I had taken off the tights I had worn under my dress earlier in the day. Zac's hand sliding up my bare thigh was a sudden reminder of how exposed I was. 

Pulling back from the kiss, I gasped. “Zac... we should...”

But I couldn't finish the statement.

He pushed aside the drawing pad, pencils and erasers scattered around us in the floor and wrapped his arms around me again, pulling me down to the floor, his body on top of mine. His lips found mine again and his hand continued up my thigh. His hands were rough and calloused but I liked the contrast, the way they felt against my skin. My entire body seemed to tingle, yet he was hardly doing anything at all. I thought I might die from the pleasure of it all even before he had done anything to truly warrant that feeling.

He pulled back from my lips and kissed his way down my jawline, his lips finding my neck and suckling on a spot just above my collarbone as his hand crept onto my bare hip, his fingernails digging into my skin. His other hand slipped up my side to caress my right breast through my clothes, grasping desperately at the fabric like he was trying to feel all the way through it.

“Ohh, Zac...” I gasped out. I couldn't articulate all the other thoughts I wanted to express. A million words tumbled around in my mind but not one of them seemed to make sense. I couldn't even be sure they were all words and not just senseless collections of letters, none of which could capture the way his hands were making me feel.

I slid my hand up his shirt, pressing my fingers into his back, as I arched my own against him. I gasped again and kissed the side of his face, prompting him to turn his head and crush his lips against mine. This time, his tongue wasted no time sliding between my lips, probing my mouth. He ran his tongue across my teeth, then nibbled on my bottom lip. 

Almost instinctively, without my mind playing any part in the matter, my legs wrapped around Zac's and urged him even closer to me. It was as though our bodies couldn't get close enough, couldn't touch enough to satisfy our need. A need that I hadn't even realized existed until I gave in to it and let my instinct take over. Zac trailed his hand down my side, then tangled it in the hem of my skirt and began pulling the fabric up, revealing more and more of my body. I was glad that the lights were low; I imagined that the lamp light shining down on my body looked like a stage light, warm and low, bathing us both in the perfect soft glow. Zac certainly looked beautiful in that light. One hand pushing up my skirt, he slipped his other hand between my legs, caressing the front of my panties. I knew he could feel that I was getting wet.

It was in that moment that the spell was broken. The gravity of everything seemed to drag us back down to earth and we were crushed under the weight of how _wrong_ it all was. I felt myself drawing inward, wanting to sink into the plush rug I was lying on, the one Justine and I had scoured countless stores to find. Zac scrambled back across the rug, away from me, and I hurriedly pulled my dress back down and over my knees, curling my body up into a little ball.

For several minutes we sat like this, neither one sure what to say. I could still taste him in my mouth, fresh and sweet. And that boy smell. I always think that's cheesy, but boys just have that _smell_. Like soap, shampoo and some expensive cologne they wouldn't admit to owning. It would take an extra long shower to rid myself of all the reminders of Zac's body on mine. 

“We shouldn't have,” Zac finally spoke. It wasn't really a complete statement, but I knew what he meant.

I nodded. “We should just forget that that ever... just forget it. I'm just... and there's _Donovan_.”

It would appear that all of my verbosity had departed me, leaving me a huddled, stuttering and pathetic mess in my floor. I felt ridiculous and I imagined that I looked it too. Suddenly and irrationally I loathed that lamp and the stupid light it cast on us.

Zac nodded his head dumbly and began gathering up his scattered art supplies. He shoved them haphazardly into his backpack, hardly even looking. His eyes stared off into the distance, not really looking at me or anything else in the room. I hoped he hadn't wrinkled the drawing or anything else important in his carelessness. 

“I'm just going to... I'll see you...” Zac mumbled, his words trailing off before he had completed a single thought. But that wasn't true. His thoughts were complete, and I imagined, just as demanding and frustrating as mine. 

Maybe. 

Okay, I had no idea what he was thinking. On the surface, we seemed to agree about this. It shouldn't have happened and should never be spoken of again. If anyone asked, not that they would, I would lie and say I didn't want it. That I didn't need his touch like I couldn't remember ever needing anything before. Because I shouldn't want it. I shouldn't need it. I had another perfectly good boy doting on me and no need to muddle everything by messing around with Zac. That's all there was to it.

Right?

Right.

And if it wasn't true, I could at least tell it to myself enough to make myself believe the lie. I could believe anything if I tried hard enough. I could play any part I needed to. And the part of a girl dating her co-star and cheating on him was _not_ a part I wanted. I would play the perfect girlfriend to Donovan, and it would only be a minor challenge.

How did I get myself into this mess?

Zac finished gathering his things and turned to leave. He walked out of the room hurriedly, barely even looking at me. His eyes were still distant and cloudy like he was caught in some intricate daydream. I wanted to be inside his mind and know his thoughts, but at the same time, I was afraid to know what he really felt. 

When the door slammed behind him, it seemed to reverberate through the entire room, maybe the entire dorm, and certainly underneath my skin. I collapsed onto the floor, feeling all the strength gone out of my limbs. I imagined that I looked as much like a rag doll as I felt, tossed aside and forgotten. 

I don't know how long I lay in the floor on the verge of catatonia, but I suppose it must not have been as long as I thought. A knock at the door gave me a jolt and I felt my heart jump but limbs would not do the same. 

Justine's voice rang out. “I finally finished my project! It's not perfect, but it'll do.”

I mumbled something that I hoped sounded happy enough, even if it didn't contain any actual words.

“What's wrong?”

Looking up, I saw Justine standing above me, a rolled up drawing in her hand and her head cocked to the side. She looked genuinely concerned but I had no words to offer her that would explain the situation at all.

“I saw Zac outside,” she forged on. “He didn't look good, but he said he finished his project too. Why are the lights off? Seriously, are you okay?”

The onslaught of questions was too much for me. I covered my face with my hands and groaned loudly. Peeping out from between my fingers, I looked up at Justine once again. “I couldn't explain it if I tried. Really. You don't want to know. We should clean this rug.”

****

The next day I sat next to Zac in class. I mentally debated with myself about it when I walked into the classroom and saw him. He looked up from his desk and smiled at me. That smile would always win me over. So I sat with him. He leaned closer to me, as close as the theater seating would allow, and slid his hand onto my thigh. The gesture was simple but it sent a chill up my spine, the kind of chill that you don't really mind feeling but is nonetheless disconcerting and unnerving. His face betrayed nothing. No emotion at all. It was just a friendly gesture, I supposed.

And that was it. Things were, to the best of their ability, back to normal. 

We parted ways after that class, but I found him again in the food court later that day. He was sitting in the corner where I usually liked to sit, so I couldn't have avoided him if I had wanted to. And truthfully by that point, I didn't want to. I really wanted to just be his friend like before all this bullshit had happened. After buying myself a teriyaki bowl, I plopped down at the table next to him. He was munching on a gigantic slice of pizza and barely even looked up from his food to acknowledge me. Somehow that didn't bother me. That lack of special treatment was exactly what I wanted from him.

Several minutes passed by in silence, and I wished for something to say that would make that silence feel a little bit more comfortable. I couldn't think of anything. Then I saw him. Donovan, striding confidently as always, toward our table. For a moment I thought I saw a hint of hesitation in his eyes, when he glanced at Zac, but it passed quickly.

“Victoria... I haven't heard from you for a few days,” Donovan said, his hands coming to rest on the edge of the table. 

I bit my lip, trying to find the appropriate lie. “I've been busy with classes.”

He nodded, evidently accepting that. “Well I was hoping we could maybe get together after rehearsal tonight. At Starbucks? Just to chat a little, you know.”

I knew exactly what he meant. And I didn't want it.

“Sure, I don't think I'm called tonight so I won't be at rehearsal, but I can take a break from homework to meet you over there.”

Even as the words came out of my mouth, I regretted them. I could see Donovan's eyes boring into me, and Zac's gaze on the other side burning into me. I wanted to sink below the table, into the ground. To disappear completely so that I would have neither of them pushing their expectations onto me. But that wasn't possible.

Donovan smiled through whatever other emotions his eyes were threatening to reveal. “Great. I can be there around 10, I think. I'll see you then?”

I nodded and offered him my best fake smile. “Yup, I'll be there.”

“Great,” he repeated, then turned and walked away. For a moment, I feared he would turn back and give me another lingering glance, like in those cheesy movies. But to my relief, he didn't.

I looked down at my rice and vegetables, but they had lost all their appeal. Reluctantly, I turned my head to Zac. He did not look back; instead, he stared mutely at his pizza.

“Zac...” 

His head snapped up quickly and for a moment I was afraid of what he might say. I really didn't know what I could say to him. There were no words that would make things better. He stared at me, still looking like he might speak. 

But he did not.

Without a word, his lips sealed tightly, he picked up his plate and stood up. 

I gaped. “Don't do this. This is not fucking necessary.”

He still did not speak. In fact, he didn't look like he had even heard my words at all. With his plate in hand, he walked away from the table. I watched his retreating form, wishing I had been able to say something else to him. Anything else. But I didn't think it would have helped.


	12. The Raging of the Stormy Sea

As I had told Donovan, I didn't have rehearsal that evening. Despite how important of a role Ophelia was, she really didn't have all that many lines, so I was getting accustomed to having an evening or two all to myself each week. It was normally a nice chance to get caught up on my homework or just sit in my room and relax in front of the television screen. I had a feeling it wouldn't be so relaxing on that particular occasion.

The whole thing made me so nervous and impatient that I couldn't just sit in my room and wait for it. I walked into the Starbucks around 9:30-–quite a bit earlier than I had planned to meet Donovan. As usual, Taylor was manning the front counter. I knew they had hired a few more employees, but Taylor always seemed to be the one working whenever I frequented the place.

“Hey, Tor,” he called out, smiling broadly. I guess I could see why Whitley was attracted to him. Like Zac, he had the kind of smile that lit up a room and just made you feel happy.

I shuffled up to the counter and took a seat at one of the tall stools. Although the rest of the place was still fairly crowded, the bar stools were all unoccupied. I liked to sit at the bar and chat with Taylor, so that was perfect for me.

“What's up, Tay?” I asked, digging through my purse for the money to buy a latte.

“Not much,” he replied, and I could tell there was more he wanted to say. After a moment's pause, he offered, “Green tea latte, right?”

“Yup,” I nodded, and handed him the cash.

With his back to me, fiddling with the espresso machine, Taylor continued, “So, how are things? Everything okay with you and Zac?”

“Me and Zac?” I repeated, afraid of his meaning.

“Yeah, you and Zac. You guys are...” Taylor spun around to look at me questioningly, sloshing espresso onto the floor in the process.

“Dating?”

“Yeah?”

“No.”

Taylor looked down quickly, and finished mixing my drink. I thought he looked kind of embarrassed. He shoved the latte across the counter to me, and finally spoke again. “Well, I just thought. I mean, he hasn't said anything to me about-–it just seemed that way, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah, well... I don't think you're the only person who has made that mistake.” 

“Zac's always kinda been like that, you know? He's always had a lot of girl friends, probably about as many as he has guy friends. But he's always really close with the girls, like he is with you. And he's ended up dating two or three of them.”

I sipped slowly on the latte, trying to process what Taylor had said. It didn't really surprise me at all. But I just didn't know what to say. Finally, I set the cup back down and said, “So, you think he wants to date me? Just because I'm his friend and it'll be convenient?”

Taylor shrugged. “I'm not saying that. Well, not all of that. It's always how he's done it before. And Zac doesn't like change. Zac doesn't really like anything that doesn't come easy to him.”

“Zac doesn't really like that I'm dating Donovan, either.”

At that, Taylor winced. Visibly. Very visibly. “I... I didn't know that. Does Zac know that?”

“Maybe not in so many words, but I think he knows. I don't know. It's strange.” I took another huge sip of the latte then just to shut myself up. The whole thing was just way more than I could make sense of, even just in my own head. I certainly didn't have any more words for it.

Taylor's eyes went wide for a moment, then his lips closed into a tight, thin line. I could tell he was looking over my shoulder, and in a moment I knew why. A hand ran down my back and I could tell just by the tremors it sent through me that it was Donovan. 

“Hey babe, I got out of rehearsal a little bit early,” he said, his voice deep and husky, like he was trying to be sexy. I wasn't sure if he was succeeding or not, to be honest.

I turned my head to the side and saw Donovan's perfect clear blue eyes boring into me. It still made me so nervous, the way he looked at me. I just didn't know what he expected of me, and those eyes only gave me more to fear.

I finally realized I was just staring at him, and I felt ridiculous. “Well, getting out of rehearsal early is always good, right?”

That was a stupid thing to say.

Donovan laughed and nodded. I guess he had to, just to be polite. “So, I was thinking. There's another party this weekend at Kelsey's. It would be awesome if you were there. I know we didn't get to talk much last time, but we could have fun this time...”

“Umm, yeah,” I stuttered. His eyes were still piercing into me and I could see all the innuendo behind his words. “I guess I could. I mean I have a lot of homework, but I'll try to be there.” 

“Great,” he replied, his eyes twinkling suggestively. I didn't even know that was possible, but it was – at least for that boy, if not for anyone else.

Desperate for any sort of distraction, I turned back to the counter and saw that Taylor had his back to us as he cleaned one of the large coffee canisters. I coughed loudly to get his attention and called out, “Tay, you should come to the party too. It was fun, right?” 

He turned around quickly, looking a little like a deer in the headlights. I suppose I had put him on the spot. “Oh, yeah. Sure. I'll ask Whit to come too, I guess. And Zac, I think he had fun last time.”

I couldn't read Taylor's face to be sure if he meant that in earnest or if it were some horrible joke at my expense. Either way, it felt like a punch in the gut. Donovan didn't seem to notice; he still stood close to my side, blue eyes sparkling down at me and his lips turned up in a smile that made me tremble even more.

“I should-–I should go, Donovan. I'm sorry,” I said abruptly, struggling to make my legs work and step down off the bar stool. 

He looked like he was going to accuse me of something, and I saw his eyes flash over to Taylor as he reconsidered it, realizing we were still in public. Instead, he only raise an eyebrow slightly and asked, "Homework?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Sorry, I've got a big essay due tomorrow that I really need to finish up. I was hoping to have it done earlier, but it's taking longer than I expected."

It scared me how quickly and easily the lie fell out. It was true that I had been working on an essay, but only half-heartedly and it wasn't due for several days. I could have stayed and spent time with Donovan if I had wanted to, but I was quickly realizing that I just didn't want to. I could tell by the look on his face that he knew I was lying, but for whatever reason, he wasn't going to call me out on it. I appreciated that.

"Well, I guess I'll see you whenever I see you," he said with a faux-noncommittal shrug. It was obvious that he cared, but like me, knew better than to act on it. 

It was easier to just let things be than to speak up and turn a little drizzle into a raging storm. No, causing waves was bad-–bad for a relationship, bad for a show, and especially bad for a relationship between actors in the same show. So we would let it be and pretend nothing was wrong.

I nodded and mumbled something of a goodbye, then hurriedly gathered my books and rushed out of the shop before he could stop me with a kiss or any other words. As soon as I opened the door and stepped outside, I collided with another body. I stumbled backwards and looked up to apologize.

"Toria-–"

I gasped aloud when I realized who it was. "Zac! What are you doing here?"

"Umm, coffee?" He said, scrunching up his face in confusion. "And, you know, Taylor's here. I was gonna see if he knew what happened to some of my laundry. I think I lost a few shirts at his place."

"Oh, right. Okay," I said. "Well, I'll see you later."

I could see his face change as realization dawned on him and he looked over my shoulder and through the large glass windows of the Starbucks, no doubt looking right at Donovan. 

"Not hanging out with the boytoy?" he asked.

 _No, you're right here,_ I thought to myself, but didn't say it and made sure not to let my face betray my not-so-funny joke. "I was. Now I'm not."

"Any particular reason why not?"

I shrugged, not really sure how to answer him in any way that I thought he might actually believe or be satisfied with. I couldn't really say why I had left Donovan hanging, only that it just seemed like the thing to do. Suddenly, I started to feel a bit ill and the look on Zac's face as he looked over my shoulder didn't make me feel any better. What was it with people appearing over my shoulder like that?

"Hey, Zac," Donovan said, sliding up behind me to rest a hand on my shoulder. "And hey again, Victoria. On your way back to the dorm?"

"Yeah." I tried to slither free of his grasp, but he didn't quite take the hint.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Zac offered Donovan a nod, but didn't speak. I had to try really hard not to roll my eyes at how absurd it was to see those two locked in some kind of macho, he-man pissing contest. And over me? It was just more than I could bear to think about so I tried my best to ignore it. I shook myself completely free of Donovan and said, "Well, I'd better be off."

"Alright, I'll see you at rehearsal. And at the party?"

"Sure," I said, not even looking in Zac's direction because I feared what he might say or do. For once, I didn't trust my face not to betray my emotions and all I could think about was the sloppy drunken kisses we had shared at the last party.

"Oh, you're invited too, Zac," Donovan added although his voice made it clear that the invitation was made only out of courtesy and not out of a genuine wish to see Zac there.

"I'll start clearing my calendar right now," Zac replied.

Donovan didn't quite seem to notice the sarcasm, and for that I was thankful. With a quick peck to my forehead, he bid us goodbye again and walked away. Zac and I stood awkwardly staring at each other until he was well out of earshot.

"Is that why you were leaving? I thought you liked him."

"I thought I did too," I admitted. "I mean, he's alright... I guess. It's just a lot of trouble to have a relationship or whatever it is I've got with him."

Zac looked more surprised than hurt. I guess he hadn't expected that reply, and truthfully I was a bit surprised at myself for admitting so much. 

"So are you going to the party?" he asked, shuffling his feet. I could tell he wanted to ask more, but he left it at that.

"I guess. I don't know..." 

"Well," Zac said, finally looking back up at me. "It's a good chance to spend some time with your boyfriend, I suppose. I'll see you later."

He practically shoved past me, even though we were alone in the sidewalk, and I wanted to call out after him that Donovan wasn't my boyfriend. But that would have been stupid, especially when I'd just basically told him that Donovan _was_. Why couldn't I make up my mind? And why couldn't I just admit that I wasn't all that happy with Donovan?


	13. How All Occasions Do Inform Against Me

I walked to the party with Zac, Whitley and Tay, just like I had the first one. But this was much, much different. Whereas the last trip had been full of wonderful anxiety and butterflies in the stomach, this time I felt like I might just be sick. Tay and Whitley were together, walking a few steps ahead of us. And Zac was quiet and tense, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. He smiled and talked a little, bit I could feel the tension and I was certain that everyone else could as well. I had feared a repeat of our first party, but he seemed to want nearly nothing to do with me.

Some way to treat your best friend, I thought. But I knew I was being just as horrible, if not worse, to him. I just didn't know how to fix it, without hurting everyone involved.

When we arrived at the party, I didn't waste any time hanging around with Zac. It had been made obvious to me at the first party that anyone was welcome to sample whatever alcohol they could find, so as soon as I walked in the door, I made a beeline for the kitchen. Wiggling my way through the crowd, I flung a cabinet open and surveyed its contents. 

Deciding not to waste any time, I grabbed a bottle of vodka and unscrewed the lid. Grabbing a cup, I dumped in a generous amount of the clear liquid, picking up a can of soda to add to the mix. I took a big swig of the drink and winced at how much vodka I had included, but I knew that would get the job done. Truthfully, I wasn't sure why I was so keen to get myself wasted. It just seemed like the thing to do.

“Wow, that's a big girl drink,” I heard Zac's voice behind me. Of course he had followed me, I thought, rolling my eyes.

I spun around to face him, already feeling the vodka making that movement difficult. My eyes went blurry for a moment, just as I came face to face with Zac. He held a beer in his hand and I wondered where he had gotten it, but I didn't ask. I thought he didn't have much room to mock me if he was already on the way to being drunk as well.

I tilted my head to the side, squinting and trying to see Zac more clearly. “Maybe it is. I can handle it.”

“Sure you can,” Zac said, smirking. As if to show his manliness, he took a giant swig of his beer, following it up with a very unattractive burp.

“Well isn't that just the sexiest thing,” I remarked, hearing my voice begin to slur. 

Zac laughed, and tilted his head back to finish off his beer. With another smirk, he replied, “Why yes, in fact; I am.”

I rolled my eyes and shushed myself with another large sip of my own drink. I watched as Zac poured himself a drink nearly as strong as my own and I wondered why he felt the need to get so severely drunk, too. Again, I didn't ask. I wasn't really sure I wanted to know, even though I had a sinking feeling I knew why.

Turning back to me with his new drink in hand, Zac spoke again. “So, when were you going to tell me you were dating Donovan?”

I guess he was a bold drunk. I might have figured that out already, I suppose.

I gulped down the rest of my drink, just to buy myself a little time. The vodka burned the back of my throat and I shuddered; that last sip was always the worst. 

“Fuck, I don't know. It's complicated, you know?”

“No, actually,” Zac spat. “I don't know.”

I couldn't help rolling my eyes. “Well, I can't explain it. It just happened. I don't know what else to tell you.”

Part of me, buried deep beneath all the vodka I was consuming, told me there were a million other things to say. But I just couldn't articulate them. Not then, not in that place, and not in that condition.

Zac mumbled something under his breath, clutching at the sides of his plastic cup so hard that I thought he might spill the drink all over both of us. Finally, he turned and walked away, pushing past the others crowded around the counter pouring their own drinks. 

I wanted to just find a corner and curl up in it, then sit there drinking myself into oblivion. I grabbed the vodka bottle from the counter and stumbled out of the kitchen, intent upon doing just that. The crowd around me made it difficult to move very quickly, and I kept getting swept up in one direction or another. When I had finally made my way into the living room, I felt someone grab my arm and I looked up to see Donovan there, looking as drunk as I wanted to be.

“Donovan, I...” I fumbled around for something to say. “I'm trying to find Whitley, I'll come back and find you soon, alright?”

He nodded and leaned in to place a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Alright, baby. I'll see you later.”

When he was out of sight, I sighed heavily. I lifted the vodka bottle to my lips and chugged down a fair amount of it-–more than I thought I would have been able to. I supposed that was just a sign of how drunk I was getting. With the bottle still in my hand, I stumbled around the room in search of a place to sit. I finally found a small patch of the floor that wasn't occupied, and I tried my best to sit down gracefully. It wasn't all that graceful in the end, but I couldn't really find it in myself to care. 

From my seat in the floor, I could watch everything that was going on around me without having to really participate in it. Okay, so I couldn't really see all that much – mostly just legs and feet moving around me. But that was fine enough for me. Occasionally when people would move out of my line of sight, I caught more interesting glimpses of the action. I watched the crowd gathered around the stereo, gyrating to some ridiculous pop song. To be honest, it was a bit disgusting to watch, but also kind of amusing to see the lengths some guys and girls were going to just to get someone's attention for the night.

Through my blurred vision, I recognized the blonde girl who had auditioned for the play, but hadn't received a part. I couldn't quite recall her name, but her face and perfectly thin body were definitely recognizable. She was hanging all over some poor boy, and his hand was slipping underneath her glittery tank top. 

When she spun him around, I realized that I knew the boy as well. I knew those hands, because I had felt them along my sides as well. I knew the shaggy, dark blond hair she was tangling her hands in. And I knew the soft lips he was kissing her with. I felt my stomach turn, and I was certain it had more to do with the scene I was witnessing than the alcohol I was consuming. 

Still, I set the bottle down with determination. With effort, I forced myself to stand and walk away without looking again at Zac and the girl. My resolve wasn't so strong, however, and I glanced over once only to find that she had pinned him to a wall and her hand was creeping into territory I didn't want to think about.

With that image burned onto my retinas, I tripped and stumbled my way through the living room, in search of the only thing, aside from more liquor, that I thought might help take my mind off of Zac. I didn't even want to think about why it bothered me so much to see him with her. Maybe it was because she was so unlike me, and so unlike everything Taylor had told me to expect from Zac-–the boy who fell for his best friends making out with some Barbie doll. And maybe it was jealousy. But I didn't want to dwell on that, because I didn't like the implications.

After pausing to ask a few people if they had seen him, I made my way up the stairs and found Donovan in the hallway. He held a beer in one hand and I could see by the wobble in his stance and the smile on his face that he was just as drunk as I was. 

Perfect.

If I said anything to him, I don't remember. To my memory, I walked straight up to him and pulled him in for the most forceful kiss I could manage. Once I was certain I had him, I loosened my grip on his shirt and instead ran my hands up and down his chest. He wrapped his own hands around my waist, perhaps a bit confused at first by my forwardness, but soon pressing his fingertips into my skin and pulling me closer.

With his hands still on my waist to guide me, he began walking us into an open bedroom. The entire time, I did not remove my lips from his. I needed to keep kissing him. I needed to be as close to him as I could possibly be. Still, the image of Zac and that damn nameless girl would not leave my mind. Only when I felt the back of my knees hit the bed and give way, forcing me to collapse rather ungracefully onto the sheets, did my mind begin to clear at all.

Donovan landed on top of me with a new vigor. He sucked and nipped at my neck, his hands running down my sides to explore the skin under my shirt. I felt him tugging at my bra in a drunken attempt to remove it, but I could not find any way to help him. My hands caressed his back and still I held my eyes closed tight to keep my mind as blank as I could.

Just as Donovan finally managed to work the hook on my bra, I heard the door creak open. It scrambled to sit up and see who was there, feeling my face flush.

It was Taylor.

He looked as though he had seen a ghost and his knuckles went white as he clutched at the side of the door. Donovan turned his head to see who had interrupted us and his eyes flashed annoyance at Taylor.

“What? What's going on, Tay?” I asked, sounding perhaps a bit more sober than I felt.

Taylor, still rather pale, replied, “I need to get out of here. I just wanted to make sure you'd be alright to get home on your own. Whitley's gonna hang around with some of her theatre friends. Have-–have you seen Zac?”

I shook my head vigorously, cursing the images that had come flooding back as soon as I heard his name. “No. No, I haven't. Not for a while...”

Taylor stared at us a for a moment, chewing his bottom lip in concentration. Finally, with a small shake of his head, he spoke again. “Well, can you find him and let him know why I'm leaving? I don't feel like hanging around long enough to find him.”

I could hear the frustration and urgency in his voice, and as much as I wanted to say no, I just couldn't. Ignoring Donovan's judgmental gaze, I nodded my head and reached around to adjust my bra. “Yeah, Tay. I'll find him.”

Taylor nodded and turned on his heel, disappearing from the doorway in an instant. I couldn't bring myself to look at Donovan at all, or to speak a word to him. I had no explanations. My clothing readjusted, I stood up and walked out of the room, not pausing for a moment to look back at the boy--my boyfriend-–who I had left laying on someone's bed.


	14. A Fair Thought

None of us spoke about the events of the party for the rest of the weekend. Taylor hardly even said a word to me in the coffee shop on Monday morning, and I didn't know what to say back. There was obviously something he wasn't telling me – I could remember just as clearly the fear in his eyes as I could the girl all over Zac.

I shuddered when I thought of that. Every time I remembered it, I felt just a little bit more ill, but I couldn't ask Zac about that either. I was with Donovan. He could kiss and grope whoever he wanted to. It wasn't like I had any real reason to hate Christin-–I remembered her name when I saw her in the theatre building before class-–other than superficial reasons. For most girls, superficial reasons would be enough. For the time being, they were plenty enough for me, too.

Still, I couldn't voice any of that to Zac. Instead, we sat in awkward silence during lunch. It was strange; no matter how upset we were with each other, we still sat together, side by side, neither one of us saying a word. When we did talk, which was becoming increasingly rare, there was a forced sort of friendliness to it that reminded me way too much of exes who try to stay friends.

“Have you talked to Whitley?” 

I was almost surprised when he finally spoke. I pondered the question for a second, then replied. “No, not really. I think I'll see her at rehearsal tonight. Why?”

“Well...” he began, then seemed to think better of it and instead took a large swig of his soda.

I raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“It's kind of stupid. I shouldn't even bother talking about it,” he said, shaking his head.

“No, go ahead and tell me. I promise I won't call you stupid. Well, I promise I won't totally mean it when I call you stupid,” I replied, smiling.

He considered it for a moment. I could almost see the gears in his head turning, rolling my words around and trying to decide what he thought of them. Finally, he began again. “Alright, the thing is... ever since the party, Tay has been acting really strange. I don't know how to ask him what's going on, and I figured Whitley might have said something.”

“No, she hasn't. But we haven't really talked. Not a heart to heart or anything like that, at least,” I answered, then decided to risk one question. “What kind of weird is Taylor being?”

Zac shook his head, his hair flopping across his eyes. He pushed a strand back from his face and said, “I don't even know. Really nervous. Uptight. I mean, he always has a stick up his ass, but this is worse.”

“Ever since the party, huh?”

Zac nodded. “Yup.”

“Well,” I said, chewing a bite of food. “You know he did want to leave that place in a hurry. Maybe something happened there to upset him? Do you think? I mean, that would make sense. Fits the timeline.”

“It does, I guess. But I don't know why he wanted to leave,” Zac replied, then added as an afterthought, “I wasn't really concerned about it at the time. Too drunk to think about it much, you know.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Trust me,” I said, then quickly decided not to continue that line of conversation. Reminders of our argument and all that happened afterward kept creeping up on me and I didn't like it one bit. It was like flipping a coin and always having it come up tails when you were hoping for heads. I just couldn't escape it.

Zac nodded, a tight lipped grin on his face. I knew he was thinking exactly the same as I was. Maybe not exactly the same-–I didn't even know if he knew I had seen him with Christin, although a tiny voice in the back of my head said that the entire thing had been a show put on for my benefit, or detriment as the case may be. He bit into his bottom lip, nibbling the skin gently, and I tried my best not to watch, not to think about his lips. But it was impossible.

This wasn't going to work. 

“Hey, guys,” Whitley's voice called out, her tone not quite matching her cheerful words.

I looked up at her and realized that something was definitely up. She practically collapsed into the chair, looking like she hadn't slept for days. Even under her makeup, I could see how pale she looked. I wondered if it had something to do with Taylor. Surely it wasn't mere coincidence.

“Hey, Whit. What's up?” I said, trying to sound casual. I hoped that, if she wanted to talk about whatever was wrong, she would do so without any prodding. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with Taylor. Maybe Zac was just being paranoid about Taylor's moods. 

She sighed into her plate and I realized things were not going to go swimmingly. “Oh, nothing. I've just been running through the play all day trying to get ready for tonight.”

“You're the player queen, how much work can you need? There are no lines,” Zac replied, grabbing a french fry off Whitley's plate. He was always doing that to people. Maybe it wasn't just me he was so comfortable with, comfortable enough to impose himself upon them. But I doubted he would shove his tongue down Whitley's throat... Taylor already seemed to have that covered, at least.

Whitley rolled her eyes at Zac, but chose to ignore his fry-snatching. “Yes, just because I don't have to speak, it's clearly easy. I have a ton of blocking to do. My entire role is pantomime! I have to remember all of this choreography and it's really hard to practice on my own.”

“Alright, geez. I didn't know, I've never done theatre. I don't know how you guys do it,” Zac replied, still chewing on the fry.

“And playing music is easy? I was terrible at flute. I think I quit band after two whole months,” I said.

Whitley abruptly pushed her chair back and picked up her tray, leaving Zac grasping thin air as he went for a second fry. “Look guys, I've got to go. I really need to rehearse some more. I think I'm gonna call up some of the other players and see if they want to meet up and run through the blocking.”

Neither Zac nor I spoke as Whitley stood, picked up her bag and marched off. We remained in shocked silence until her retreating form was completely out of sight. 

“What the hell was that?” Zac finally asked.

I turned my head to him. “Well, I think we know she's as upset as Taylor is. And I doubt it's just about the play or your food-thievery.”

Zac affected a shocked and offended look. “That's just ridiculous. She loves me. And she loves when I steal her food.”

“Sure, she loves it just as much as the rest of us do,” I replied.

In response, Zac grasped my fork in his hand and shoveled a heaping portion of rice onto it, then shoved that into his mouth. I really wanted to strangle the boy. He tossed the fork back into my bowl and smiled at me. I didn't return the expression.

“But seriously, do you think it has something to do with Taylor? She didn't say anything about him,” Zac said, and wiped a bit of soy sauce off his bottom lip.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course she didn't. She wouldn't say anything about him in front of you. She wouldn't want you to know in case it upset you or in case you might run off and tell him what she said. Some people-–especially some girls-–are like that.”

“Alright, good point,” Zac conceded, “I didn't think of that. I guess Whitley does seems like that, like she... uh...”

“Like she cares about what people think? Or she likes to have a good reputation. Something like that, yeah,” I replied. “And maybe a bit of a gossip, too. And those girls are always the worst. They try so hard not to cause drama, but it never works. Don't get me wrong, I do like her. I'm just nothing like her.”

Zac nodded slowly. I could tell he was trying to take in and process what I had said, but it didn't look like he was really having much luck. “I guess you have a point... but she'll talk to you about it, right? When I'm not around?”

“Maybe,” I said, shrugging. “It's hard to tell. Maybe not, because she knows how close you and me are. She'll still be afraid I'll say something to you. Which, of course, I will. Maybe I'm a bad friend.”

“I just want to figure out what's wrong with Tay, that's all. I'm not Whitley's biggest enemy in the world, here,” Zac said.

“I know, I know. And she knows that. That's not the point though. And why don't you just ask Taylor about it yourself? Wouldn't that be a lot easier?”

“In a normal world, yes. That would be easier,” he replied.

“But you're gonna tell me that's not how you guys work?”

He shook his head. “No. Well, kinda. But even if I did ask him, which I tried to, he would just say nothing was wrong. It just seems like he's really really tense and doesn't want to talk about anything. Most of all what's got him so tense.”

“Don't worry, we'll figure it out. I'll see Whitley at rehearsal tonight and I'll try to get her to open up.”

****

That evening, I went to rehearsal early, hoping I would have a chance to talk to Whitley before things got started. No such luck. She was there as well, but she was buried deep in her script in the green room and she didn't look like an interruption would be welcome at all. I had been in theatre long enough to know that interrupting her – or anyone deeply engaged in their script – would be dangerous to my health and well being. Instead, I took a seat out in the theatre and waited for Dr. Ansary to call things to order.

Our most important scene for the night was the play within a play that Whitley had been stressing about during lunch. Donovan and I would have to be on stage together–-something I wasn't particularly looking forward to. I wasn't certain that he had seen or heard about the argument I had with Zac at the party, and I hadn't talked to him since I ran out of the room just when things between us were getting hot and heavy. That silence between us was enough proof for me that he knew about everything with Zac and that he was not happy about how I had acted. And although he certainly didn't know about my indiscretion on the rug, the memory of it just added to the pile of things that made me completely uncomfortable under Donovan's gaze. I felt like even a scarlet A on my chest wouldn't make my sins more obvious. 

Yet he was cheerful and pleasant. Like Hamlet himself, the ultimate actor, putting on a face to suit his situation. Although we still had one more day before we were absolutely required to be off book, he made a huge show of tossing his script down on the floor before taking the stage to begin. And he was _good_. I had seen hints of his talent all along, but now, with the book out of his hands, he brought the play to life and I remembered, or maybe only realized for the first time, what had attracted me to him. 

My performance, I'm afraid to say, was not up to his standard. When he threw himself in my lap, making Shakespearean come-ons, I could only think of Zac. It seemed like ages ago that we sat on my bed, cracking jokes about the play. My stomach turned and I was thankful to have my book in hand, to focus my eyes on something other than Donovan's baby blues staring up at me. His eyes were the only thing that betrayed the difference between his act and reality, but I don't think anyone would have noticed but me. I'm sure, though, that others must know. Everyone must know. We were, after all, surrounded by all these actors and technicians when it had all happened. I was glad we were playing that particular scene; the blush creeping across my face was perfectly appropriate – and probably the only thing about me that was in character at all.

We ran that scene nearly a dozen times, rarely going from beginning to end – stop, start; stop, start. It was frustrating. Whenever we broke for notes, I focused on Dr. Ansary, even though only a few words about focusing on the character's motivations were directed at me, or buried my face in my script. Anything to keep from looking at Donovan. 

When she finally declared the scene passable and dismissed us for the night, I let out a huge sigh and took in what felt like my first breath of the night. I rushed off stage and gathered my books, then made my way into the green room in hopes of running into Whitley. Just as I suspected, she was back there, collecting her belongings.

“Victoria, no offense, but...” Whitley said, looking up from her handbag. “You were kind of off tonight. Now it's my turn to ask: is something wrong?”

I shook my head. “Just Donovan. I couldn't believe how good he was once he got that script out of his hands. It threw me a little.”

“He throws everyone a little. He gets off to a slow start sometimes, but he always pulls out an amazing performance. Are you sure that's all that's bugging you?” Whitley said, throwing the handbag over her shoulder.

“Well, no. Not really. But it's no big deal. Things have just been tense between us,” I replied. 

She nodded. “I know that feeling. But I bet you at least know why.”

Fantastic. I didn't even have to ask; she was opening up on her own. I frowned a little, hoping to hide the scheming Zac and I had done. “What's wrong? Something with Taylor?”

“Yeah,” she replied, turning to walk out the door. “He's just really uptight. Ever since the party. Something freaked him out there, but he won't say what. And I'm not sure he wants to go out anymore.”

“What makes you think that?” I asked, following her out of the green room and into the hallway.

“I'm not sure. It's just a feeling I get, you know? He just seems uninterested. Maybe it's not just me and I'm just taking it too personal. I don't know. I guess I'll know for sure this weekend, if he wants to go out or if he flakes out. Again.”

“Just try not to stress too much about it until you know what's really going on,” I said, pushing open the front doors of the arts building. “Maybe he just saw someone he doesn't like or something? It's probably nothing big. He could be stressing about classes and it has nothing to do with you. Give him some time.”

“You're probably right. I'm just not good at being chill, you know? I stress a lot,” Whitley replied.

I shrugged. I knew exactly what she meant, but I was good at putting up a front. Inside I was a bundle of frayed nerves, but I kept my outside calm and collected. 

“So what's up with you and Donovan, anyway? Come on, spill it,” she said, giving me a little nudge.

I scrunched up my face. “I don't know. We've had a few dates, if you can call coffee and a few minutes alone at parties dates. I can't really figure him out. He's clingy sometimes and sometimes he's a cold, brick wall. But there's definitely something about him that I can't help but like.”

“Well, he's definitely into you. He just has his mood swings. He's a real actor, that one,” Whitley replied.

Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time, I gasped. “Oh no, we ran late tonight. I was supposed to meet Zac over at the coffee shop like ten minutes ago.”

Whitley grinned. “And what's up with you and that one, huh?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I swear.”

“Methink the lady doth protest too much,” Whitley replied, laughing.


	15. The Undiscovered Country

Whitley and I parted ways soon after that, after she tired of berating me about my relationships with both Donovan and Zac. If only she knew the whole size of it -but of course I wasn't prepared to tell anyone. Justine knew, but I trusted her with my life. She was the only one who helped me keep a grip on my sanity sometimes and I couldn't keep a damn thing from her.

I hurried on to the coffee shop, hoping that Zac would still be there waiting for me. He was going to try broaching the subject with Taylor, and had promised to meet me outside when I was done with rehearsal so that we could discuss things. I almost felt like a spy, being so plotting and devious about the entire thing. Particularly when we didn't even know if there was really anything bad going on. I crossed my fingers that he would still be there waiting for me and as I approached, I was pleased to see his figure standing outside the front door of the Starbucks.

“Zac, I'm so sorry! Rehearsal ran late,” I called out to him.

He turned around and I could see his face flash from frustration to relief upon seeing me. He gave me a small smile and said, “Well, maybe you've had better luck than me.”

“Couldn't get anything out of him, huh?” I said, lowering my voice as I closed the distance between us.

Zac shook his head and looked down at his shoes. “Nope. And he seemed really pissed at me for even trying to talk to him. I'm ready to drop the whole thing and just leave him alone until he pulls the stick out of his ass.”

“I guess I did have better luck, but it isn't good news,” I said, “Whitley thinks he's trying to break things off with her. Being all evasive and flaky and stuff.”

“And it started Friday, right?”

“Yup, at the party. It sounds like he probably saw someone there that he didn't want to see,” I replied.

Zac cocked his head to the side and nibbled on his bottom lip. He really needed to rid himself of that habit; it was going to be my undoing. Finally, he replied, “I think you're probably right. I just don't know what or who could upset him that much. I don't know of any ex-girlfriends he cares about that much.”

I shrugged. “Well, I have no idea. You know him way better than I do.”

“You would think so, wouldn't you? I've only known him for almost 19 years,” Zac replied. “We should probably go back inside so we don't seem super suspicious. Like we're plotting his death or something.”

Nodding, I replied, “You're right. Let's go in. Can I still get a drink or is it too close to closing time?”

“Taylor and Joseph should be closing up now, but you can probably get a soda or something. And maybe some leftover cookies and stuff.”

“I'll be lucky if you leave me any of those,” I said, laughing. 

“Damn right,” he replied, pulling the door open and motioning for me to enter. 

The room was completely empty when we walked in, and half the lights had been turned off. The smell of coffee was subtle, a sure sign that the espresso machines and coffee brewers had been shut off for the day. The only sound was the steady drip drip drip of the faucet. Taylor and Joseph were nowhere in sight.

Zac looked around and frowned. “Maybe Tay's in the back, cleaning up back there. Let's go check.”

I nodded and followed behind him as he pushed past the swinging half-door at the end of the counter. He walked on through the door to the back room of the coffee shop, not bothering to call out anything to announce his presence. In hindsight, that may have been a mistake. I collided full force into his back as he ground to a sudden halt in front of me, right in the doorway. I glanced around his side to see what had made him stop and I thought my jaw might actually hit the floor.

Taylor stood pressed up against one of the large refrigerators, caught in an embrace with Joseph, their lips pressed together and their arms wrapped around each other. Zac coughed loudly, making both boys jump. Taylor looked over at Zac in fright and stammered.

“Zac, I... we were... I umm...”

Joseph's face betrayed little emotion, but Taylor looked absolutely frightened. I felt sorry for him. My mind began fitting all the pieces of the puzzle together and it suddenly made a lot more sense, while also making no sense at all. I put my hand on Zac's back, willing him to say anything at all. Anything was better than the silence.

“Taylor...” Zac began, the name coming out almost like a curse. Then, under his breath so that I only I heard it, he added, “Why couldn't you just...”

He didn't finish the thought. Knocking me backward against the door, he turned and walked back out of the coffee shop. That left me standing alone, staring awkwardly at Taylor and Joseph. I didn't know Joseph well, only from the few occasions I had seen in him the coffee shop, but he certainly hadn't set of my gaydar. And I know that's a horrible cliché, but I'd had my fair share of gay friends through my years in theatre and Joseph hadn't seemed like any of them. Neither had Taylor, though perhaps the scarves and strange fashion sense might have given the slightest hint of something out of the ordinary. Still, I'd seen his tongue do the same things to Whitley that they had done to Joseph before Zac and I so rudely interrupted. 

Rudely interrupted? No, they knew we were there. Didn't they? My head was all swirly and dizzy and mixed up. I could do nothing but stare at them and shake my head, unable to say a word. Joseph looked calm and collected, but his cheeks were slowly turning pinkish as the seconds of awkward silence slipped by. And Taylor was shaking. I felt terrible for him. Zac and I had intruded, even if Taylor and Joseph were doing something they shouldn't have done, in a place where they would inevitably have gotten caught. 

“I'm sorry, Taylor,” I said, my voice sounding smaller and weaker than I could ever remember it sounding in my life. “I'll go find Zac. He should... well, I'll find him. I'm sorry.”

I didn't want to put words into Zac's mouth. He should apologize, but I felt there was more to what he was thinking than his angry exit had revealed. But I didn't know what would happen when I found him. I did, however, know exactly where I could find him. With a last nod to Taylor and Joseph, and an apologetic smile, I walked out of the room, through the shop and into the cold night air.

I stomped across campus, the heels of my shoes clacking against the sidewalk in a staccato rhythm. I couldn't focus on anything else but that sound and how I shuffled just a little on my left foot. Finally, I reached the arts building and, thankfully, found the doors still unlocked. I focused on remembering the way, reciting Zac's directions under my breath–-up three sets of stairs, to the left, four doors down the hall. I could hear the muffled drum beats before I could see the door I wanted; even the soundproofing didn't totally block the sound out.

On my tiptoes, I looked in the small window. Zac sat with his back to the door, headphones on and pounding away at one of the practice drumsets. He didn't see or hear me, of course. Not even when I pushed open the door he had neglected to lock. That didn't surprise me at all-–the carelessness of not locking the door, or how he was so absorbed in his own world that he didn't know he was no longer alone. Both were absolutely, positively Zac.

I cleared my throat. “Zacky, honey.”

He continued drumming away. 

Again, louder. “Zac.”

Finally, he stopped, almost falling off the throne when my voice hit his ears. He looked up at me, eyes wide. “What? How long have you been there?”

It sounded like an accusation, but I tried to ignore that aspect of it. I sat down on the piano bench that had been left in the room without it's piano, and said, “I couldn't just let you run out. I haven't been here long, though. Just walked in.”

“And you knew I would be here?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

I shrugged, setting my handbag down on the floor between my feet. “I didn't know for sure, but I figured if you wanted to vent or blow off steam or whatever, this is where you would go. My next guess was going to be the art studios, but that's a farther walk so I checked here first.”

“Good guess. Nothing like pounding away on the drums to make me feel better,” Zac replied, punctuating his sentence with a loud cymbal crash.

I winched at the sound, drawing my hands up over my ears. When the sound and its echo had faded away, I spoke again. “Did you really need to beat something? Were you angry with Tay?”

Zac shook his head, but it wasn't convincing. His head sank into his hands and he growled into his palms. “I don't know. I just don't know. I was mad at him, but not for what you think.”

“What do I think? Can you read my mind?”

He looked up at me. “What anyone would think. That I'm a homophobe. That I'm angry at my brother for being gay.”

“You don't know that he's gay, Zac...”

He sneered. “Right, Joseph just happened to fall and Taylor caught him with his lips.”

I glared at him, wishing I could kill a man with my stare alone. Okay, maybe not kill. But maim might have been nice. “That's not what I meant. He could just be bisexual, or just experimenting, figuring things out. Maybe that's why he's been so tense, you know? Confused about all this stuff.”

“I know you're right. You're always right, you bitch,” Zac said, and only his half-smile kept me from throttling him. “And I'm not mad at him for being gay. I'm mad at him for probably leading Whitley on. And for not thinking he could tell me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You don't know how close we are, even though we fight all the time and evidently keep gigantic secrets from each other. He's my brother, and I love him. You wouldn't get it, being an only child. But I want him to be happy. That's why I've been so worried for the past few days,” Zac said, the words seeming to take all of his energy to say.

“And you just wanted the truth from him, no matter what it was,” I added.

He nodded. “Yes. Exactly. There have been very, very few times when he has hidden things from me. And I've never liked it. But this is a big one and I really, really don't like it.”

“So just talk to him, for god's sake. Just talk to him,” I replied. 

Zac sighed and tossed his drumsticks down. “Stop being right all the time. It's really annoying.”

“Don't lie, you love it,” I said, smiling. “It saves you the trouble of thinking and risking hurting your pretty little head.”

“Like that could ever happen. You know I don't ever even _try_ to think.” He picked his drumsticks off the floor and waved them in my face, then began drumming on the top of my head. “At least my pretty little head isn't completely hollow like yours.”

“Hey, oww! That hurts!” I cried, although it really didn't. He was being rather gentle, all things considered.

Laughing, he tossed the sticks down again and stood up. Holding a hand out to me, he said, “Aright, alright. Let's go. Can I stay with you tonight? I don't really feel like being alone and I'm pretty sure Evan won't cuddle with me.”

“I dunno... you've been drumming away, you'll be all sweaty,” I said, accepting his hand and standing up.

He pulled me into a big bear hug. “Me? Sweaty? You know you like it.”

“Ahhhh! Dirty man sweat all over me!” I squealed, giggling. My arms were pinned to my sides and I couldn't escape his grasp even if I tried. It wasn't all that bad, though.

Still laughing, he finally released me from his hug. Wrapping one arm loosely around my shoulder, he walked me out of the room. “So, should we tell Whitley about all this?”

I shook my head vigorously “No. No. Absolutely 100% no way. You really don't ever think, do you? That's a terrible idea. Have I made my point yet?”

“Yeah, yeah. Point made and taken,” he said, letting go of his grip on my shoulder as we turned to walk down the stairs. “But I just feel like we should do something.”

“No, _you_ should do something.”

“And what's that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh God, I don't know. Maybe apologize to your brother? You know, the one you ran out on and left looking like a dear in the headlights.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied, looking and sounding sheepish.

“I'm definitely right. Again. Be there for your brother, and when he's ready to face up to what's going on, he will. Especially if you are there for him, alright?” I said.

He nodded, but didn't say anything, instead just scratched his head and pouted a little.

I continued, “And as for me, I'll try to help ease Whitley through it. But I'm not gonna tell her anything that she hasn't heard from Taylor first. It's not my place to push him out of the closet when he isn't ready.”

“He looked pretty ready to me,” Zac said. 

I shook my head and chuckled. “No, he looked like he was kissing a dude. Not quite the same thing, really.”

I didn't realize it, but we had already reached the dorm. It seemed like time spent with Zac seemed to alternate between speeding by and lasting forever. Both were fantastic, if you asked me. At this particular moment, time seemed to be in fast forward. Or I was just too caught up in him to notice the passage of it. Either way, there we were and Zac was pushing open the door to our dorm, ushering me in front of him. 

Either because we had run out of things to say or out of respect for Taylor's privacy, we became unusually quiet as we entered the building. When the elevator reached my floor and called out its ding, my cell phone also rang out. I looked down at the screen and saw the name “Donovan” and felt sick to my stomach. 

Zac raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask. I held the phone out for him to see and he looked disgusted. 

“Should I?”

“Hell no.”

Those two words were all the encouragement I needed. I knew I would regret it in the morning, but for the time being I would put it out of my mind completely. I shoved the phone back in my pocket and fished the keys out of my purse. With the door unlocked, I lead Zac in and tossed my bag aside. I picked up a long oversized shirt, at least four sizes too big, and hurried into my bed. Zac turned his back as I ducked onto the bunk to change into my comfy shirt. 

When I turned to face him again, he was walking toward the bed, having shed his hoodie and one of the shirts he had layered under it. He started to reach for the button of his jeans, then paused and looked up at me. His face was almost pleading, but mostly embarrassed. “Umm, do you mind? I'll be more comfy this way... I have boxers on.”

I bit my lip. It wasn't an easy choice to make, and either way I would be lying just a little. Finally I replied, “No, it's fine. I'm not wearing pants, so you don't have to either.”

He laughed, then shed his pants, tripping over them as he tried to pull his feet out of the legs. I could tell he was nervous, and I wished he didn't have to be. But this was all kinds of wrong and awkward, made only that much worse by the fact that I had ignored Donovan's phone call. And that tiny issue of Zac's girlfriend, or whatever she was, which I still hadn't found the nerve to discuss with him.

I lifted up the covers to allow him to lay next to me and he slid into the bed hesitantly. I pulled the covers tight around us, then slipped my arm under them to wrap around his waist, hoping that would make him feel more at ease, wishing there were something I could do to make myself feel at ease as well.

As Zac curled up against me, I did feel my resolve softly shattering and a calm coming over me. I curled up against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. The steady sound of it lulled me to sleep in his arms and all my concerns of the day melted away into the soft, warm comfort of being with Zac.


	16. The Only Honest Hypocrites

The next day when my alarm sounded, it also brought with it the annoying ding intended to alert me to a new voicemail. That sound continued long after the alarm died out and it had never before been so offensive to my ears as it was in that moment. My eyes didn't want to open, but eventually I managed to pry my eyelids apart. At some point during the night, I had rolled over so that Zac and I were spooning, one of his legs snaking between mine to wrap around my bottom leg at the ankle. His hand rested on my hip, which I was surprised that he had been able to find under the endless sea of my shirt. 

Carefully I rolled over and wiggled my way out of his grasp. As gently as I could, so as not to wake him since I knew he didn't have class as early as I did, I scooted down the length of my bed, and slid off the end of it into the floor. I fumbled around the floor for my purse where I had left my phone the night before. In my struggle to find it, I decided that I should just stop using it as an alarm clock. An alarm clock that was actually attached to the wall would be much more practical than a mobile and easily lost phone. 

Finally, I located my bag and pulled out the phone just as the voicemail alert began to ring out again. Flipping it open, I saw the alert for three new messages. All of them from Donovan. Inwardly, I groaned. Outwardly, I pressed the button that would play them all, even though I really didn't want to hear any of it. The recording played, and then Donovan's voice rang out.

“Hey Victoria, it's me. Donovan. Just wanted to see how you were doing after rehearsal. It was kind of a rough night and I just wanted to check in.”

That was fairly innocent, I supposed. But I imagined it wouldn't get better. I followed the key commands to hear the next message. A beep, and then Donovan's voice again:

“Victoria, it's me. Just calling again to say goodnight. But you're probably already asleep. Oh well. I'll talk to you tomorrow, I guess.”

At that, I actually rolled my eyes and let out a groan so loud I thought it might wake Zac and Justine both. I jabbed my finger at the "delete" button, even though it had done me no offense. I just needed to take out my frustration on something and I couldn't play the drums. The phone beeped again and the last message played.

“Look, Victoria... we need to talk. Sorry if you're asleep, but I really want to talk to you. It's kind of important, okay? I'll let you sleep now, though, but please call me tomorrow.”

I tossed the phone into the floor, then collapsed into a heap next to it. So he knew. I really didn't want to talk to him about it. That had to be it, though. It had to be about Zac. I looked up at my bed and saw Zac still sleeping there, his head smushed against the pillow so that all I could see was a halo of blond hair. Quietly I picked myself up from the floor and gathered my things for a shower. Hopefully I could be showered and out of the room before Zac woke.

Twenty minutes later I returned to the room, my wet hair piled on top of my head in a towel and my robe pulled tight around my body. My shower shoes-–a fancy name for a pair of cheap plastic sandals-–squished with every step and I was certain that the noise would wake Zac. I was surprised, when I pulled the door open, to see him already awake and sitting in my desk chair, playing with my laptop. He wore a different outfit and his hair was wet.

“You showered?” I asked, self-consciously pulling my robe closer to me body, my arms wrapped around my chest like I was trying to give myself a hug. Stupid Zac, making me nervous. I was never nervous about my body. 

He nodded and stood up. “I woke up halfway when your phone was going off and I left a couple minutes after you did. You know it doesn't take me that long to shower.”

“I guess,” I replied, sitting down the shower basket I had been holding. That made me feel a little less awkward, but it didn't completely alleviate the feeling.

He took a few steps toward me. “Did you have voicemail? What was all that racket?”

I bit my lip and looked down. I didn't want to answer that. Why couldn't Donovan and Zac both stay completely separate parts of my life and never muddle up each others' interactions? Why did everything have to get all jumbled and stop making sense? It wasn't fair. Hesitantly, I looked up at Zac and nodded. “Yeah... it was Donovan.”

He growled under his breath and I was taken aback. I knew it was a sound of anger, of rage and maybe even a little bit jealousy. But I couldn't help hearing the raw sex appeal in it. Since when did Zac have sex appeal? Since the night I jumped in his lap and tried to have my way with him, I supposed. Still, it wasn't a thought I cared to have. I shuddered as he took a few steps closer to me, and I hoped that he would think it was just the cold water lingering from my shower making me do so.

“What did he want? How many times did he call?” Zac asked, and this time I detected not only jealousy, but protectiveness. 

I looked down, not wanting to meet his searing gaze. “Three times... I guess. He left that many voicemails, anyway. We must have been fast asleep then.”

“Jesus, what did he want?” Zac asked, placing a hand on my cheek and forcing me to raise my gaze to his.

“To talk... about things. He didn't say what, but I think I can guess.”

Zac nodded and took the last step required to completely close the distance between us. His hair dripped onto my forehead and I giggled at the feeling. His voice soft and low, he said, “I think I can guess, too.”

“What do you suppose it is?”

“This,” he replied, touching his lips to mine. His hand ran around my head to cradle the back of it and pull off the towel I wore over my wet hair. I placed one hand on his back, trying to pull him closer to me even though I knew that was barely possible. 

Zac's left hand played at the trim on my robe, tracing a line across my chest, until he finally gained the nerve to slip his hand under the fabric and cup my breast in his hand. I moaned into his mouth at the feeling, opening my mouth wider against his and allowing his tongue further area to explore. My knees felt weak but I also felt energized, tingly and hot all over my body. I was a world of contradictions and feelings that didn't make sense. A whirligig of swirling emotion in his arms. 

Just as suddenly and gently as it had began, Zac pulled away from me. He cupped my face in his hands and placed on soft kiss on my forehead. Stepping back, he said, “Alright. Get yourself dressed and go explain that to your _boyfriend_.”

With those words he walked out of the room. No goodbye. And certainly not a smile as he left. I felt my knees trying to give way beneath me again, but I wouldn't let myself collapse again. The swelling of tears in my eyes couldn't be avoided, however. My eyes clouding over, I shuffled to the dresser and retrieved my underwear, then put together an outfit out of the first things I grabbed from my closet. Finally, when I could hold it together no longer, I collapsed into my desk chair and let myself cry. I didn't sob, but I didn't hold back either.

Justine's alarm sounded as I sat there and she stumbled half-asleep from her bunk. Some days I wondered how she didn't kill herself making that climb with her faculties only half-functional. She stopped when she reached the floor next to me and stared at me in confusion. I could almost see the myriad questions forming in her mind, and the gears turning as she tried to decide which would be the best to ask.

“Umm... Toria?”

I sniffled, wishing I could just hide underneath my hair. “Yes?”

“You're not...crying?”

“I am.”

“Okay?”

“Not really. Please don't ask.”

I wish she had let the subject drop there. Normally our short, half-spoken sentences and questions would have been sufficient, but it wasn't often that she woke up to see me sobbing, either. So I wasn't surprised when Justine plodded on.

“Zac spent the night.” Not a question. Not an accusation. Just a statement.

I nodded slowly. “Yes. He's an asshole.”

“Is he?” Justine asked, hand on her hip. “I think he's kind of sweet. I like him.”

“That's the problem. I do too. And Donovan knows that,” I replied.

“So ditch the bitch and date Zac,” she said, shrugging the entire issue off.

I sighed. “It isn't that simple, you know. I mean, a big part of this show is resting on whatever chemistry Donovan and I have. And we definitely have some, but it's almost as volatile as our characters'. I've got to do everything I can just to hold this together enough to make it through the run of the show. Which means keeping Donovan happy. Or if not happy, at least satisfied. Dating Zac won't really do that. Oh, and Zac may or may not be sleeping with some other theatre girl.”

“How do you know that? Oh – the one from the party?”

I nodded. “I haven't asked him. I just don't want to think about it.”

“You probably should. And figure out what – and who – you want. Do you have any idea what that might be?”

“That isn't the point,” I replied, plucking a few tissues from my desk and dabbing at my eyes. I had to make myself presentable quickly and get to class. Thankfully I didn't have class with Zac that day.

“No, but it's my question,” Justine's voice called out as she wandered over to our shared closet.

I stood up and reached for my towel where it had fallen in the floor. For a while, I dried my hair and ignored Justine. Finally, after she had turned back around to stare at me long enough to get on my nerves, I replied, “Well, I don't have a good answer for it.”

“I think you should find one,” she said, shaking a clothes hanger at me.

She was right. If Zac thought I was always right, then he obviously hadn't talked to Justine enough. She meant well. She always did. But she never held back. I knew she was right, but I would be damned if I would actually listen to her. Not yet. I had to keep things sailing along as smoothly as possible until the show was over. Then I could figure out what it was I really wanted, and go after that. But only then.

****

I made no attempt to contact Donovan that day. He didn't call again, and I knew it was silly but I hoped that he would just drop the subject. I didn't see Zac either, but I knew he was avoiding me. That didn't surprise me at all. After my last class of the afternoon I saw my fears confirmed, walking toward me. Not Zac, but Donovan. He looked surprisingly cheerful given the sound of his voicemails. Although, none of them had been threatening. Just nagging. I guess that was why it bothered me so much; it implied a level of possessiveness in our relationship that I was just not comfortable with or aware that we had reached.

Donovan veered away from the group of friends he had been walking with and stepped into my path. There was no avoiding him. He gave me a small smile, one that I felt was mostly for show, and said, “Victoria, did you get my voicemails? I was worried.”

I tried not to cringe at his show of concern and replied, “I'm sorry, I went to bed kind of early and I didn't hear my phone at all. I'm a pretty heavy sleeper.”

A lie. Absolutely a lie. Not the best way to start the sort of conversation I knew that he and I were about to have. But I just wanted to save my ass. I never claimed to be a good person. 

“Well, we need to talk,” he said, lighting touching my arm and pulling me to the side of the hallway. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Those words were so cliché-–“we need to talk.” Still, it made my stomach turn to hear it. 

I leaned against the wall and stared down at my feet. “Okay, what's up?”

He sighed. “It's you and Zac. You two are too, too close. I just need to know the truth. What's really going on between you guys?”

I looked up at him. His face was unnervingly emotionless and I tried to make mine the same. “Nothing is going on between us. Nothing. He's my friend and we are very close, but it's just a friendship.”

“Guys and girls can't be friends like that,” Donovan replied with a chuckle.

I rolled my eyes. This was not an argument I wanted to have. “Yes, they can. If he didn't have a penis, you wouldn't have a problem with this, would you?”

“No, I wouldn't assume you were trying to jump his bones if he were a she.”

“Then you're pretty homophobic too, aren't you? Maybe I like it both ways,” I replied. It wasn't the best argument I could have made, and it was yet another lie, but I couldn't stop myself.

Donovan, stony faced, replied, “Oh, do you? How does that matter at all?”

“That's the point. It doesn't. But no, I don't,” I said. “And you shouldn't just assume. Anyway, Zac and I are close because yes, it is possible for guys and girls to just to be friends. Is it possible for you not to be a jealous prick?”

“If we're dating, of course I'm going to be jealous that he gets to be all over you too,” Donovan spat. “Doesn't seem like it's all that serious, though, if he's with other girls too. On the other hand, sounds like you guys might be perfect for each other.”

So he did know. He had seen, or a friend with loose lips had seen. Either way, he knew about the parties. And maybe he knew about all our nights in each others arms, although I figured that was less likely.

“We're dating?”

“You hadn't noticed?” He replied, his eyes going wide.

I shrugged. “You didn't ask, you just assumed it. I mean, we've gone out, but as far as I'm concerned, this isn't official enough for you to care what I do when you aren't around.”

“Well forgive me for assuming some level of faithfulness,” he said, backing away from me.

“Maybe you should stop assuming.”

“Maybe I will,” Donovan said. “Can we just make it official, then?”

“We can. Officially over.” I replied.

With that, I turned and walked away from him. What else could I say? I knew there was something between Donovan and I. I wasn't dumb, after all. But to think we were dating? Exclusively? He was asking much more of me than I had to give. No, he was _expecting_ it, without even asking at all. And that's what bothered me, I realized. The utter sense of entitlement. Zac was beginning to develop one of those too, and I think that was the biggest reason for my hesitance to be with him. Both boys assumed that I owed them some allegiance, some amount of love that I hadn't offered to either. 

And that just really, really bugged me. I wasn't giving anyone a damn thing until I was ready to. And especially not if they didn't even ask. I didn't look back to see how Donovan had taken what amounted to our break-up. I didn't want to know. I groaned at the thought of that night's rehearsal-–it would either be great or absolutely hell. 

Worse than that, I dreaded how smug Justine would be when she found out that she had, in fact, been right.


	17. More Matter, With Less Art

“You and Donovan were totally on last night!” Whitley gushed, sipping on her lemonade. She, Justine and myself were enjoying a dinner alone, for once. It was strange how our boys had gone missing-–I was pretty sure Evan had homework, but I had no clue where Zac was. I had to laugh at myself for thinking of them as our boys. Evan didn't fit in our group, really, but as Zac's roommate he often found himself hanging out with us nerds anyway. And Zac? Well, he was just Zac. And right then, that was far more than enough.

I smirked. “Funny you should say that. We had a huge fight yesterday afternoon. Apparently he thought we were more serious than I did, and he's all jealous about stuff with Zac.”

“I'd be jealous about your stuff with Zac if I were him,” Justine said, twirling a noodle around her plastic chopsticks.

“Okay, okay. What I'm saying, though, is that Donovan had no right to be so jealous when I wasn't even aware that I was supposed to be his girlfriend,” I replied. 

Whitley nodded. “I told you that boy was sketchy. He is just so hot and cold, you never know what to expect from him. He really is a decent guy though, just... eccentric.”

“Ha, that's a word for it,” I said, laughing, “Either way, I think we are totally over now.”

“Totally over? Are you sure?” Justine repeated.

“I don't know. I really, really don't know. I didn't know what else to say! I know it's going to be hell on the show. But it seemed to work out pretty well last night,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders.

“So I guess you're out of a date for the homecoming dance,” Whitley remarked.

I rolled my eyes. “I'm not sure I was ever _into_ one in the first place. He might have wanted it to be official, but Donovan sure wasn't putting much effort in.”

“What about Zac?” Justine offered.

“What about him?” I asked. “I couldn't tell you _what about_ that boy if I tried. He's so strange. I guess I could ask him, though. Somehow I don't think he's going to ask me-–or, if he did, he'd manage to twist it into some insult about Donovan.”

The girls laughed a little at that, but their laughter stopped awkwardly and abruptly. I wasn't sure why until I turned my head to follow their stares. Then I saw it. Zac, walking into the cafeteria with that little blonde thing from the party glued to his side. I felt the blood rush to my face so distinctly that I briefly imagined myself looking like a cartoon character, heat rising through their body like a thermometer until steam burst through the top of their head. 

I was so angry that I hardly even realized they were walking straight for our table. As they got close enough to see the looks on our faces, I concentrated all my energy on relaxing. I could do this. I could handle this. I was an _actress_! If there was anything I could do, it was pretend that I wasn't jealous.

As soon as the word _jealous_ crept into my mind, I knew that I wouldn't be okay. No amount of training could allow me to act like everything was okay when I was suddenly confronted with the reality of how I felt about Zac.

“Hey guys,” Zac said, and I thought he seemed entirely too proud of himself. “This is--”

“Christin,” Whitley and I both said at the same time. I blanched, but Whitley mercifully covered for me. “We know her from theatre. Sorry you didn't get a part in this one, hun.”

I thought I heard a little bit of acidity beneath Whitley's sweet words, but I couldn't be sure. It seemed everyone was a better actor than me these days. Christin's lip twitched a little bit, like she was biting back an equally sweet-but-sour remark, but the movement was so subtle that I doubt anyone else noticed. Within an instant, she had plastered on a fake smile. “Oh, I'm sure I'll do better next semester. You guys don't mind if we sit here, do you?”

It took all of my strength to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. _We_? They were a _we_? Everyone else murmured their consent while I stared dumbly, unable to believe that some girl I barely knew outside of class wanted to know if it was okay for my best friend to have dinner with me. Although, at that particular point in time, the honest answer would have been that it was very not okay for Zac to sit there.

But, of course, I couldn't say that. Instead, I pulled my lips together tightly to keep any of my angry thoughts from tumbling out, and watched as Zac and Christin walked away, arm in arm, to get their dinner.

Once they were out of earshot, Whitley let out a huge laugh. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

“That was yet another reason why I am not asking Zac to the homecoming dance,” I replied.

“She's an actress?” Justine asked. “I figured he found her at a pep rally or something.”

Whitley laughed again. “Oh, she's an actress all right. She's not bad at it, either, which just makes her all the more infuriating. You know those overachieving types who just have to do every extra-curricular, and they're better than you at all of them, too? Well, that's Christin.”

“And she still finds time to party,” I threw in.

I could see Justine's eyes light up as she made the connection, but Whitley stared blankly at me. “I guess I didn't tell you. I saw Zac making out with Christin at the party last weekend. I don't even know if he knows that I saw them. It's none of my business, really, so I haven't asked him about it.”

“If he's going to bring her around here, then it's all of our business,” Whitley replied.

“Why do you dislike her so much? I know why I do, but what's your reasoning? Besides all the stuff you already said.”

Whitley shrugged. “It isn't really. She just rubs me the wrong way. And she is so not good enough for Zac-–even if she is little Mrs. Perfect.”

I thought it was kind of funny that Whitley seemed so personally invested in Zac's choice of girlfriend-–or whatever this girl was. I should have been the one freaking out about it. Truth be told, I was only barely holding myself together. My temperature rose even further when I saw them walking back toward our table, laughing at some joke I was sure Zac must have told her. I couldn't help the thought in the back of my head, screaming that I should be the one by his side, not her.

Of course the only empty chairs were on my side of the table. Zac sat down right next to me, and Christin on his other side. I almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous picture we must have made. But I couldn't laugh. Zac said something to me, but I was so angry that I couldn't hear a word of it. My ears were filled with static and I could only shake my head while Zac stared at me incredulously.

“I'm sorry, guys. I need to get out of here. Homework.” It was a lie, of course, but I had to say something. I didn't look back at the table once I gathered my things and left. 

Once I reached the lobby, where it was quieter and the static in my head dissipated a little, I heard Zac calling after me. I didn't turn around. Still, there was a part of me that felt a sense of smug satisfaction that he had run out on Christin to check on me. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could win back my favor that easily. I tuned out his voice and stomped on back to my dorm.

Yes, I was causing a scene. But I figured I'd earned the right to be a little dramatic. What's the point of studying drama if you can't cause a little of it every now and then? 

I didn't really know what to do with myself once I stormed off. So I sheepishly walked into Johnson Hall and took the elevator back to my room. I slammed and locked the door behind me, just for emphasis. With no other plan, I decided to do exactly what I'd said-–I pulled out my script and ran through my lines. I was pretty sure I had them down, but I figured a little extra practice was always good, especially since the show was opening soon.

I honestly didn't know if I was expecting Zac to follow me all the way, or if I thought he would give up and go back to Christin. I should have known he would follow me. I was still flipping through the first act looking for my first lines when a knock came at the door, and I knew immediately it had to be him.

“Toria. Let me in.”

Yup, it was him. 

With a loud sigh that I hoped he heard, I flipped the lock and flung the door open. “What do you want, Zac?”

“Lots of things, but right at the moment, I'd like to know why you just stormed out of the cafeteria, and why your friends looked like they were trying to kill me with their eyes.”

I rolled my eyes and walked away, leaving him standing in the door. I couldn't believe he had chased me all that way with no clue why. Was he really that stupid? I didn't think so. I realized he just wanted to hear me say it. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

“Toria. Answer me. What did I do?” 

Unfortunately, he knew I couldn't stay quiet for long, even if I wanted to. I spun around to face him. “Would you like the entire enumerated list or just the highlights?” 

“I'll settle for the highlights.”

“Figures. Don't want to take too much time out of your _date_ to deal with me.” 

He opened his mouth, probably to say it wasn't a date, but slammed it shut again without saying a word. I guess he decided to save himself the trouble of lying. I waited to see if he was going to say anything, but he stayed quiet, so I forged on. “Okay. Let's see... well, let's start with how jealous you always act of Donovan. Then that whole business about kissing me yesterday morning. Did you even bother to tell your new girlfriend about spending the night in my bed? And that-–that's probably the worst part. In just over twenty-four hours, you've gone from trying to have your way with me to bringing this girl to our dinner table. Like nothing happened at all with me.”

“Are you done?” he asked.

“I haven't decided yet,” I said, still feeling anger boiling in my blood. “I would like to ask how long this has been going on between the two of you. Did it start at the party or before that, and you just neglected to tell me about it? I guess you couldn't find the time to mention her, what with all the time your tongue was doing down _my_ throat, too.”

Zac stood unnaturally still and silent during my entire rant, and it really unnerved me. I had no idea what he was thinking, and he didn't seem inclined to answer any of my questions. 

“Well?”

“I think you asked more questions than you gave explanations,” he finally said. “And I don't know why I owe you so many answers. I may not have been all that patient, but damn it, I've been right here this whole time. So forgive me if I'm starting to realize you're never coming around to me.”

“I don't even know what you're trying to say right now.”

He sighed. “I'm not dating Christin, okay? To be honest, I hardly remember making out with her, but evidently she remembered me. But it shouldn't matter what, or who, I do. You've got Donovan.”

The laughter I had been holding in all evening, the laughter over just how absurd this entire situation was, finally came tumbling out of my mouth. “No, I really don't have him. If you'd been a little more patient, and not thrown yourself at Theatre Barbie, you might have known. I broke up with him yesterday, okay? Is that what you wanted?”

“I'm not really sure I'm the one who needs to figure out what they want.”

I winced. He was right. Everyone kept telling me to figure out which one of them I wanted. I knew now that it wasn't Donovan, but I didn't like the side of Zac I had seen that evening. His _jealous_ side. I was certain my jealous side wasn't any more attractive, though. The whole situation just frustrated and embarrassed me, and I couldn't take any more of it. I hated for Zac to see me so emotional, especially when he was the cause.

“Can you just leave?” I phrased it as a question, but I shoved him toward the door as I asked it.

“Fine. Fine,” he said, as I backed him into the doorway “But this isn't over. You know that. I might be impatient, but I'm still waiting.”


	18. Let the Devil Wear Black

Despite our lack of dates, Whitley absolutely insisted that Justine and I go VCU's homecoming dance. In addition to that, she had insisted on driving us to the mall to search for the perfect dresses. I followed Whitley's lead and walked through the doors of the mall, shaking my head. She was obviously in charge of the entire expedition, so Justine and I opted just to follow behind as she led the way through the mall's stores. 

We wandered through several stores without much luck, making small talk about classes and homecoming traditions to pass the time. Finally, Whitley lead us into Macy's, which I knew was a little out of my price range, but I didn't want to say anything. I supposed I could just try a few dresses on and if I found one I liked, call my dad later and hope that he would send some extra money my way. I hadn't spoken to him for a while, anyway. I had been dreading the phone call, knowing he would ask about mom and I was not prepared to deal with how awkward that would be.

“How about this one, Toria?” Justine asked, holding up a complicated looking dress in silver with black ribbons across the chest. We both knew exactly how to pick out things the other would like, but this one looked a little strange even for me. Still, I was willing to trust her taste.

“Sure, I'll try it. Do they have my size?”

She riffled through the rack for a moment, then held out the dress and smiled. “Yup, here it is.”

I flipped through the dresses on the rack next to her, and grabbed another dress that looked like it might be a better fit for me. It was a simple black dress with a circle skirt and a large red flower on the side. 

Whitley came up to my side then, her arms loaded down with several dresses in a rainbow of colors. “Why don't you try this one? I really like it, but I'm not sure it suits me. I hate me in fuchsia.”

I looked at the dress she held. It was shimmery fuchsia satin with a wide black waistband. It was absolutely perfect-–and $150. I bit my lip and stared at the price tag for a minute, then took the hanger from Whitley and said, “Alright. I'll try it.”

The three of us headed to the dressing rooms together, and found that they were all empty. We walked toward the back row anyway, just for the privacy to talk to each other through the walls. 

Just as I was wiggling out of my jeans, Whitley's voice rang out. “So, you should know that Donovan will probably ask you to go to the dance with him, Toria.”

“We just broke up!” I squealed, unzipping the black dress and stepping into it.

“Doesn't matter, I told you he was always hot and cold. He'll come back to you. Give him time,” she said.

“I guess. What if I don't want him to?” I groaned, struggling to zip myself into the dress. “Justine, can you come zip me up?”

“Sure thing,” she called out and second later popped her head through the curtain. She wore a simple coral sheath dress that looked nice with her auburn hair. I turned around and held my hair up so that she could reach the zipper.

“Why don't you just ask Zac to go with you?” Justine asked, her voice loud enough for Whitley to hear the question as well. 

“That's a great idea,” Whitley answered for me.

I shook my head, letting my hair fall back down around my shoulders as Justine finished doing up the zipper. “No. Definitely not. He's being nice when you guys are around, but he's really being a dick about the whole Donovan thing. You weren't there for our argument. It was bad. And did you guys already forget about his other little girl? He swears there's nothing between them, but I don't believe it. He's just so weird.”

“That's because he loves you, girly,” Justine said, then ducked back out of the dressing room before she could see the dirty look I was giving her.

“I'm not asking him. If he wants to go with me, he can ask me himself. And I really doubt that is going to happen,” I said, contemplating how the dress looked. It was a bit plain; after all, how many girls would be wearing little black dresses? I did want to stand out, even though it was silly. It was just a theatre kid thing, I guess. I wiggled the dress around until I was able to lower the zipper.

“You never know,” Justine said. “The boy might come to his senses yet.”

I rolled my eyes as I pulled the second dress-–the silver one Justine had given me-–off the hanger and tried to pull it on. “Umm... Justine. I think the dress you picked is a no-go. That is, unless I want to blind people with my cleavage.”

“Oh yeah? That's too bad,” She said. “Well I think I found the one I want.”

“Me, too,” Whitley called out.

“Good for you guys,” I said under my breath, wiggling back out of the dress and replacing it on the hanger. Reluctantly, I removed the fuchsia dress from its hanger. I almost didn't want to try it on. I knew that if it was perfect, it would break my heart to put it back on the rack. Hopefully I would still be able to buy it eventually, but leaving the store without it for now would not be easy.

Finally, I pulled the dress on and zipped it up. I turned my back away from the mirror at first, afraid to see it. I was able to zip it almost all the way up with the dress turned around backwards, then wiggle it around the right way. When I finally turned myself toward the mirror, I was disheartened. The dress _was_ perfect. Absolutely. And way, way more than I wanted to spend, especially for one night with no good reason to be dressed up so nicely anyway.

“Come on out, Toria,” Justine said, “We want to see how you look. We've gotta see how we _all_ look, since we're probably going to be each others' dates.”

“Hasn't Taylor said anything about the dance?” I asked, hoping not to strike a raw nerve.

I heard Whitley's groan first, then she replied, “Only that he hates dances. Which I'm pretty sure is a complete lie. I told him I'm still going and I'd like to see him there, so there's no pressure on him. No sweat if he doesn't show up.”

Poking my head out of the dressing room, I remarked, “Wow, that sounds a lot more relaxed than you were a couple days ago.”

Whitley emerged from the dressing room to my left and shrugged. “Well, it's a pretty recent development. I was still kind of upset, but the thing with you and Donovan made me think. I'm expecting way too much from Taylor, way too soon. So I'm going to relax and let him figure out whatever has him so pissy.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” I said. “Besides, we can all go to the dance together and make those guys feel like complete idiots for not asking us.”

And judging by our dresses, they definitely would feel that way. Whitley wore a tight navy dress with ruching all down the sides. It was one shouldered, with a large, matching navy flower on the shoulder strap. Justine's dress was cream colored, with a lacy bodice and a ruffled skirt, separated by a large bow. The color looked even more perfect for her than the coral dress I had seen her in earlier. And as for me, I had to admit that Whitley's pick was perfect. Still, the price tag left my reflection in the large mirror outside our stalls looking much less happy than the other girls'. 

“What's wrong, girl? That dress looks amazing on you,” Whitley asked, grabbing my arm and giving it a shake.

“I know, I really like it,” I replied. “It's just that I don't know if I can afford it. I can't buy it tonight, but hopefully I can come back and get it. If not, I'll either wear one I've already got or buy a cheaper one. Maybe the black one I tried on.”

“Well, I am definitely getting this dress,” Justine replied.

“Me too,” Whitley said, beaming at her reflection.

I wanted to be happy for the two of them. They would look great at the dance. It would have been nice to have enjoyed our little shopping trip, but it just didn't turn out that way. I watched Justine and Whitley pay for their dresses and followed them around as they searched for the perfect shoes, but I just couldn't muster up much enthusiasm for them. The whole time, all I could think about was how I had manged to make both Donovan and Zac angry at me, and how much I dreaded calling my dad to beg for money.

****

Two hours later, I sat in my dorm room still dreading the phone call. Justine had met up with some people to study and I was lucky to have the night off from rehearsal. I tried to distract myself and prolong the inevitable by watching reruns of CSI, but it wasn't working. I knew I would eventually have to make the call. Avoiding it wasn't helping anything.

With a groan, I picked up my cell phone and flipped through the address book for my dad's entry. I pressed call and listened to the drone of the ringer in my ear. After several rings, he finally picked up.

“Hello?”

“Dad, it's me. Your only daughter,” I said.

He chuckled softly into the phone. “Of course, I recognized your voice. You know I never remember to check the caller ID thingamabob, though.”

“I know, dad.”

“I was thinking of calling you tonight. How are things going at college?” 

Sighing, I flopped down onto my bed. I was doing my best to relax and not make such a big deal of this conversation. “Things are good. Rehearsals are taking up a lot of my time, but that's nothing unusual.”

“Classes are good? Not too hard for you, I'm sure.”

“Classes are fine,” I replied. “Lots of reading, but it's not really difficult. Just takes a lot of planning to get everything done, you know?”

“I know,” he replied with a knowing chuckle. Of course he knew; my dad had been a college chemistry professor since before I was born. If there was one thing he knew, it was college. And chemistry, of course.

“Listen, Dad... umm, there's a homecoming dance here next week and I found a dress I would really love to have, but it's $150 and I just wasn't sure if I should get it. I don't really have enough money to spare for that,” I managed to stutter out.

Without a delay, he replied, “Of course, isn't there enough money in your account?”

“There is, but... are you sure?”

“Of course. If you want the dress, get it. You know I don't mind. It's your mother who doesn't like to throw money around, even when she has plenty to throw,” he said.

I knew Dad was right. I had inherited both his expensive taste and my mother's thriftiness. That combination meant that I loved shopping, but suffered from intense guilt trips over even essential and reasonable purchases. It was no fun at all, especially now that I was on my own with no one to veto my choices.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I'll go to the ATM on campus tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan. I'll transfer some more money in later so you don't have to worry about running out. Have you talked to your mother lately?”

I sighed. “Not for a while. She keeps telling me that her and Jeff are too busy to come visit.”

“Well, give her some time. She'll come around. She always does, you know,” he replied.

“I hope you're right. I'll talk to you later, okay? I've gotta run,” I replied, and it was a complete lie. I just wanted to end the conversation about Mom before it got even more awkward.

“Alright, girl. I'll call you in a couple days. Keep up the good work at school.”

“Bye, Dad.”

I shut the phone, knowing that he never said goodbye. It was just one of his many quirks. I hoped he was right about Mom, but I had my doubts. I wished I could just depend on myself to know the truth, or at least trust what everyone told me, but I just could not get rid of all the doubt gnawing at my mind.


	19. Hold A Mirror Up To Nature

The next few days progressed in the same manner. Donovan and I continued to have amazing chemistry on stage, despite hardly speaking off stage. Zac continued to act like absolutely everything was normal between us whenever anyone else was around, and sometimes even when it was just us. We even continued to pass silly notes during class. But things weren't the same and we both knew it. 

And things between Taylor and Whitley only continued to get more and more tense. She pretended everything was normal as well, but I knew that was a lie too. Zac hadn't, to the best of my knowledge, been able to confront Taylor about his apparent sexuality. But I didn't ask. I felt like it was becoming less and less my business what was going on in their private lives. So I kept quiet, but it wasn't easy.

Homecoming week was a giant blur and flurry of activity all over campus. I walked across campus in the evening darkness, stepping on all the crunchy leaves I could find on my way toward the Campus Center. A special coffee house was being held that night for students and visiting alumni. Anyone who wanted could sign up for a spot to perform anything they wanted – poetry, spoken word, music, comedy, whatever. I knew a ton of my Artist's Colony friends would be there and Justine had promised to save me a good seat. Luckily, the event began just as rehearsal was ending, so I only needed to hurry a little to arrive on time. 

When I finally made it to the second floor of the Campus Center, I had to wind my way through a large throng of people to reach the table near the front where Whitley and Justine sat sipping their free hot chocolate. I smiled and opened my mouth to call out to them, but someone was taking the stage and tapping the microphone so I took the hint and kept quiet.

Sliding into a seat at their table, I lowered my voice and said, “Hey, girls. Have I missed anything?”

“Not yet,” Whitley leaned toward me and said, “But have you seen Zac tonight?”

“No, why?” I asked.

She pointed to the other side of the room and I saw him standing there locked in an intense conversation with another boy whom I didn't recognize. The other boy held a guitar strapped over his shoulder and a few sheets of paper in his hands. Zac leaned over and pointed out something on the paper, and I suspected it was probably lyrics or sheet music of some kind.

“He's going to perform tonight? He didn't tell me,” I said, lowering my voice even more as the first performer took the stage. I sat back in the chair and listened as the boy on stage recited something in between a rap and a poem about his struggle to keep up his grades and make his family proud. The language was simple but I liked the way it flowed off his tongue, and I could tell the emotion behind it was real.

When he finished, Justine leaned toward me, clutching her steaming coffee cup. “So did you go back and get the dress?”

“Yeah, I don't know why I was so worried,” I replied, “You know my dad. He's always willing to fling money at me. It's the only way he knows how to show his emotions.”

“Hey, I wouldn't be complaining about that,” Whitley interjected, laughing.

I laughed at that, but truly I disagreed with her. Money didn't solve everything and I wished my dad would learn that. He was trying; I knew he was. But even though I knew the new cell phones and designer clothes were his way of saying “I love you,” it still left me wanting, and feeling like a spoiled brat. I just couldn't win.

The next few performances were hardly memorable. A lackluster rendition of some John Mayer song, a nasal country song that was so sappy and over the top I wanted to laugh, and a few more spoken word pieces that weren't quite on par with the first. Then the boy I didn't recognize took the stage, followed by Zac and Taylor. Zac sat down behind the drumset that had been borrowed from the music department and Taylor took his place at the keyboard. The other boy stood at the microphone and adjusted his guitar, plugging it into a tiny amp which buckled into his belt. I laughed a little as Zac began rearranging the drums to better suit his style of left handed playing.

“While my brother makes it really difficult for the next person who plays that set, I just wanted to take a chance to introduce myself,” the boy began. “I'm Isaac, and I graduated last year. This is my second homecoming here, and I always enjoy coming back. Me and my brothers figured we would just play a few songs for you guys, so here we go. Zac, are you ready?”

“Yup, ready to go,” Zac replied, tapping the cymbals lightly.

“Alright, let's hit it,” Isaac replied, strumming his guitar.

He plucked out a few notes, just to get the feel of the song, then turned to his brothers, waiting for them to join in. Taylor nodded his head, tapping out a melody on the keyboards, then Zac filled in the drums. After a few bars, Isaac began singing the familiar tune.

“My friends feel it's their appointed duty. They keep trying to tell me all you want to do is use me. But my answer to all that 'use me' stuff is I wanna spread the news, that if it feels this good getting used...”

Under our breath, Justine, Whitley and I all sang along with him. We couldn't resist it; the song was just too catchy and their cover of it was pretty faithful to the original for three white guys from Northern Virginia. The entire crowd was swaying and softly singing along with it.

“...it ain't too bad the way you're using me, 'cause I sure am using you, to do the things you do...”

When he finished the song, the crowed erupted into applause and cheers. I couldn't find it in myself to be quite that cheerful. It seemed like Zac was keeping so much from me. I knew that he and his brothers played music together, but I had no idea they were all so talented. And I didn't even know his older brother was coming to visit for Homecoming. I felt irrationally betrayed by the entire thing. Still, I cheered and clapped. When the clamor died down, Isaac moved his microphone over to keyboard and helped Taylor adjust it.

Taylor tapped the microphone a few times, just to test it, then spoke into it, “Well, luckily the people running this said we could have the stage for a while, so now you guys get to hear me. I'm gonna play a little bit newer song than Ike did. Hope you guys enjoy it. If you don't know it, it's by a guy called David Gray and you really need his CD.”

Taylor cleared his throat, then began to play the keyboard. Zac and Isaac stood awkwardly around, not joining in at first as Taylor began to sing.

“Meet me on the other side, I'll see you on the other side... Honey now if I'm honest, I still don't know what love is, another mirage folds into the haze of time recalled...”

After several verses of just Taylor's haunting vocals and the keyboard, Zac picked up his drumsticks and joined in, soon to be followed by Isaac strumming gently at his guitar. Zac added in his vocals in harmony with Taylor, his voice high and light like when he first sang for me. I knew Taylor hadn't picked this song by accident. It made perfect sense, but probably only to him, Zac and myself. And maybe Joseph, if he were there. In time, maybe Whitley would understand it too.

“I'm sick of hearing my own lies, and love's a raven when it flies. Meet me on the other side, I'll see you on the other side...”

While the audience was still applauding Taylor's song, the boys began shuffling around, switching instruments, moving microphones, and rearranging the drum kit once again. Once Taylor was in place at the drums, Zac sat down at the keyboard and leaned in to the microphone.

“Okay, I'm sure you guys are sick of us by now. But we've got just one more song. This is one I wrote myself and no one but me has ever played it before... so this could be interesting. But hopefully the message gets through.”

He bent his head down to the keyboard and I could just barely see the look of concentration through the strands of hair dangling over his eyes. He began to tap out a melody on the keys, then stopped. I thought I saw a murmured “fuck” leave his lips. After a second's pause, he began again. This time he got off to a better start, and soon Taylor and Isaac joined in, both looking down at sheets of paper laid on the floor. I was so impressed by their improvisation that I almost forgot to listen to Zac sing.

_Woke up early_  
To try to catch the rain  
Across Pennsylvania  
On a western bound train  
All our pictures can't replace the things we've said  
I don't know where we're going yet or where the tracks lead 

_I can't say what is waiting for you_  
At every stop  
You blow my mind and change direction  
The simple fact is I've fallen now so if you get off  
I'm gonna wait here for you 

_I'm in Seattle_  
You're down in New Orleans  
But that doesn't change much about the way I see things  
I'll take the south bound  
And meet you in between  
There's no destination except where the tracks lead 

_I can't say what is waiting for you_  
At every stop  
You blow my mind and change direction  
The simple fact is I've fallen now so if you get off  
I'm gonna wait here for you 

_I can't get enough_  
It's only a touch  
But it's breaking my heart  
It's tearing me up  
Are you in, are you out  
Are all of your doubts  
Taking you further  
And further away? 

_I can't tell what is waiting for you_  
At every stop  
You blow my mind and change direction  
The simple fact is I've fallen now so if you get off  
I'm going to wait here for...  
I can't say what is waiting for you  
At every stop  
You blow my mind and change direction  
The simple fact is I've fallen now so if you get off  
I'm going to wait here for you 

To put it simply and cliché, he took my breath away. When the song was finished, I sat in silence, staring at Zac while the crowd around me erupted into cheers and claps. The boys stood and took a bow to even more applause, but Zac looked like he just wanted to take off running. Justine nudged me and I snapped out of my stunned silence enough to manage a little half-hearted clapping. When I looked over at her, she was giving me an I-told-you-so-look that made me feel like punching her in the face.

Finally the three Hanson boys made their way off stage and the MC took the microphone back, scooting it back to its intended position center stage. He started rambling on about who would be performing next, but my attention was still fixed on Zac, watching him shuffle to the counter where the drinks and refreshments were, his head down like a celebrity trying to avoid the paparazzi or a child hiding from the gaze of a disapproving parent. I wasn't sure which was the more accurate interpretation.

It was then that I realized both Justine and Whitley were staring at me, imploring me to say or do anything. I didn't know what to do with myself. Finally I stood, my legs shaking and feeling more like they contained jello than bones and muscles. I wove my way through the crowd, keeping my head up and searching for Zac's shaggy head of hair that couldn't be missed in even the largest of crowds. 

“Zac!” I called out, but my voice barely carried over the sound of some jock trying to play Led Zeppelin on a cheap guitar.

He was still standing at the counter when I found him, looking like it was taking every ounce of strength he had to remain securely on his feet. The coffee cup he held trembled in his hand and I feared that he might drop it. He looked up at me just as I was about to reach out and touch his arm.

“Victoria...” he trailed off, then swallowed and began again, “Toria, hey. I saw you in the audience. I'm glad you came.”

“I'm glad I did, too. You guys were amazing.”

He blushed and it might have been the cutest thing I had ever seen, the soft red creeping across his tan cheeks. Looking down at his coffee, he stuttered out, “Th-thanks.”

I reached my hand out and placed it on his, hoping to steady him a little. “I mean it.”

Finally Zac looked up at me, tentatively, his honey brown eyes half-obscured by his hair. I offered him a smile – a genuine smile, not one I was faking just to make him feel better, although I considered myself more accomplished at the latter. It wasn't that I considered myself a liar, really. I wasn't a liar. I just wasn't accustomed to playing my own part. 

“I'm glad you liked it. Until tonight, you were one of the only people who got to hear the songs I write. I don't really like sharing my songs with anyone, though,” Zac said, then freed his hand from mine and gulped down a large swig of coffee.

He sat the coffee down on the counter and I snaked my hand onto his again. I bit my lip, unsure of how to proceed. “That song was...”

He nodded and I wanted to giggle at the way his hair shook when he did so. “I know,” he said, laughing nervously. “I know exactly what that song was, trust me.”

“One would hope so, Mr. Songwriter,” I replied, tapping my fingers against his hand. 

At that, he finally managed to smile a little. “Can we take this conversation outside? Or at least downstairs. Just get me away from all these people, please.”

“You know, the stage fright should go away after you perform,” I said, poking him in the side. “But, alright. Let's get out of here.”

I led him back by the table where Justine and Whitley had been seated, but where now only Justine remained. I paused and pointed at Whitley's vacated seat but Justine only offered me a shrug. Assuming that was the only answer I was likely to get, I threw my jacket on and slung my backpack over my shoulder. I turned back around to Zac and laced my fingers into his. He offered me a small smile and lead the way out of the room and down the stairs.

We didn't speak until we reached the first floor and Zac had lead me to a set of couches by the entrance to the building. He flopped onto one of the couches and seemed to truly relax for the first time all night, except perhaps a few seconds behind the drum set when he had escaped into the music and forgotten about the crowd. I slung my backpack into the floor and myself onto the couch next to him, throwing my legs across his like it was just second nature to be so intertwined with him. And it was. But after days of hardly speaking outside of what little it took to maintain a modicum of friendship, it felt strange to fall back into our old routine. 

“When did you write that song?” I asked, hoping the question wasn't too much, more than he would be willing to say.

He did not look up at me when he replied, “Last week.”

I didn't need to say anything else and neither did he. We sat in the most comfortable silence possible, just enjoying each others' company. The meaning of his words was not lost on me, of course. The song was about me. It had to be. As the moments stretched on, I began to inch my way closer to him, tangling my legs around his and placing my hand on his thigh. He leaned back against the back of the couch and wrapped his arm around me. I felt so comfortable with him that I could have fallen asleep. Then two voices came from down the corridor nearest us, somewhat soft but not sounding particularly happy.

“You need to talk to people about this,” the first voice said, and I struggled to place where I had heard it before.

The second voice was softer, sadder. “I know, I know. I'm just not sure how to make them understand... this isn't really that simple.”

“You think I don't know that?” The second voice countered. “But you need to talk to them, Taylor. Especially Whitley. Tell her the truth.”

It was too much of a coincidence. Zac and I both perked up when we heard those two names and sure enough, Taylor and Joseph stood just at the end of the hallway, not quite close enough to have seen us yet. Then I saw Whitley walked toward us all, and I wanted to slide down into the couch and pretend not to hear or see what would follow.

“Tell me what?”


	20. In The Silence, Our Stage Whisper Might Carry

Taylor stammered and stuttered. He turned his head to Joseph, who only offered him a shrug. I looked to Zac and his face was a picture of sheepishness. If I had wondered whether or not he had confronted Taylor, I now had my answer: he hadn't. 

Joseph took a step back from Taylor, leaving him out on his own with his defenses down. I didn't think that was very fair of him, or very nice, especially if he were supposed to be Taylor's boyfriend, and I assumed he was. 

“Whitley, I can't...” Taylor finally managed to squeak out, his voice smaller and meeker than I had ever heard it.

Whitley stood unnervingly still, her face motionless and her eyes wide. She didn't speak. Joseph stepped closer to Taylor again, and whispered something in his ear. The way he laid his hands on Taylor, one on his back and the other on Taylor's arm, was obviously more than a friendly gesture. I hoped Whitley wouldn't notice, but the twitching of her bottom lip suggested that she had.

“You can't what?” She finally spat out.

“I don't... I don't think I can be what you want me to be.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She was not taking this well. I felt sorry for Taylor because I knew he had to be going through more than he could express, but I couldn't say that my reaction would have been any better than hers. I really couldn't imagine what either of them were going through, but it wasn't fair for Taylor or Whitley to have to deal with any of it.

“It means what it means,” Taylor said, “I don't know how else to explain it. I'm just... I guess I've been leading you on, because I'm not who I thought I was.”

“Leading me on...” Whitley repeated after him, as though if she heard the words again they might make more sense. I suspected that they didn't.

Suddenly I was beginning to feel very self conscious about watching this take place. It wasn't anything that concerned me and I shouldn't have been there. I mouthed the words “I should leave” to Zac and started to stand up, but his hand on my shoulder pulled me back to the couch. 

He leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Please stay. I'm gonna need some moral support.”

“Listen, I just can't be with you, Whit. I'm sorry... if things were different, maybe we could happen. But I'm just not the kind of guy you need,” Taylor half-explained, threading his hand into Joseph's almost unconsciously as he spoke.

That was, as they say, the straw that broke the camel's back. I saw Whitley's eyes widen at Taylor's little gesture. Her lips tightened into a thin, angry line. “Oh. I see.”

Before Taylor could reply, she turned and walked out of the room, her pace quickening with each step. Taylor didn't chase after her. He pulled his hand back from Joseph's. With sad eyes he looked over at Zac. I gave Zac a gentle nudge, hoping to prod him into saying something that was, if not profound, at least a little bit comforting to his brother. The boy clearly needed someone to be there for him, and it didn't look like Joseph was doing a very good job. And in any case, Joseph couldn't offer him the kind of approval he needed from his own brother.

“Tay, we need to talk.”

No shit, Sherlock, I thought. That was the best he could do? Then again, it was a start. A step in the right direction. 

“Yeah, we really do,” Taylor replied, then looked over at Joseph. He said nothing, but took a step back from Taylor and offered him an encouraging nod and a little shove toward the couches where Zac and I still sat.

I looked up at Zac and his eyes implored me to stay. I didn't want to. I should have been off comforting Whitley, even though I had no idea what I supposed to say to her. “Sorry the guy I set you up with is gay. At least you can go shopping together.” No, that wouldn't do. “At least you got to first base before he started batting for the other team?”

This was hopeless. I was better off awkwardly listening in on the brotherly heart to heart than trying to console my friend and failing. 

Zac patted the empty spot to his left and said, “Come on, Tay. I'm not mad. Come here, alright?”

Taylor ignored him and instead opted to sit in one of the chairs directly across from our couch. He curled up in the chair, folding his long limbs up until the fetal position. I was surprised at just how small he looked; he wasn't a large guy by any means but someone his height shouldn't have been able to look so much like a child. A scared child. I wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be okay. 

“Listen, I really didn't mean for you to see what you--”

“I've seen you make out with plenty of girls. Why be so shy about shoving your tongue down some guy's throat?” Zac said, cutting off Taylor's sentence.

Taylor visibly flinched. Even I was taken aback by Zac's words, and the last few days had seen me grow quite accustomed to his sarcastic barbs. I had hoped this conversation would have some degree of civility, but that didn't seem to be the case so far.

“That's, that's not what I meant. You weren't supposed to find out that way,” Taylor managed to squeak out.

“Well, I did. Now we've got to deal with that, don't we?” Zac replied, and although his tone was harsh, the words were fairly reasonable. I would have commended him for that, but he wasn't getting off the hook so easily for his first comment.

Taylor mustered a little bit of courage and leaned forward in his chair. “Do you wonder why maybe I didn't want to talk to you about this? I knew it wouldn't go well.”

“I'm not upset that you're... whatever you are,” Zac replied, “I'm upset that you had to hide it from me. Or you thought you had to. Or something. I don't know what's going on in your head, I really don't.”

“Maybe I don't either!” Taylor cried out. If Zac didn't hug him soon, I was going to.

Zac looked down at his hands, his eyelashes fluttering. After a moment, he looked back up. “You're still Taylor, though. You're still my brother. You really thought I was gonna hate you or something?”

“I didn't know, okay?” Taylor replied. “I don't even know what's happening here. I thought I knew who I was, or maybe I had just convinced myself I was something I wasn't. I don't know. But, but something just snapped. And I think... I think this is who I am. Do you see how hard that is to explain? I couldn't expect you to understand or accept that, not when I haven't figured it out for myself yet.”

I couldn't keep quiet any longer. “But isn't it better if you talk to someone about it? I mean, bottling all that up inside can't be good for you. And like Zac says, you're still gonna be his brother no matter what you decide you are in addition to that.”

“Me and Joey have been talking a little, about that kind of stuff,” Tay said. “But you're right. Zac, you promise you aren't mad?”

Zac nodded. “Of course I'm not mad. I'm frustrated that this is how I'm finding out that you're... you're...”

“Gay. Bisexual. Whatever. I'm a fag. I don't know,” Tay said, a tiny smile beginning to play at the corner of his lips.

“Right. One of those,” Zac replied, returning Taylor's small smile. “Whatever you are. You can't change it, and that's perfectly alright. You're still Taylor and I'm still gonna love you, okay?”

The smile broke loose and seemed to engulf Taylor's entire face. “That's great, Zac. Really, you don't know how great that is. I love you, too, dorkface.”

“Love you, ya big baby,” Zac replied. 

I reached out my hand and placed it on top of Zac's, giving his a small squeeze. I was proud of him, even if he had acted like an asshole toward Taylor at first. I was glad to see the two of them putting the pieces back together. At least something was starting to go well.

****

“How are you holding up?” I leaned in to Whitley and asked her, my voice low. She was refilling a water bottle from the fountain outside the green room during our five minute break and although there was no one else near enough to really hear our conversation, I knew she would appreciate it if I kept things under wraps.

She took a long swig of her water and I could tell she was avoiding the question or trying to craft an appropriate answer. When she finally spoke, I wasn't at all prepared for what came out.

“Did you know?”

I couldn't lie to her. No, I could. I most certainly could, and convincingly at that. But it wouldn't have been right. Slowly, I nodded. “I guess. I saw him... with another guy. It was an accident. I mean, I didn't mean to see them. But I didn't talk to him about it so I didn't know the whole story until last night.”

She didn't seem thrilled by that answer, and I certainly didn't blame her.

“And you didn't feel the need to tell me that?”

I sighed. “I didn't really know what to say. I mean, 'I saw the guy you're kind of dating with his tongue down some dude's throat' isn't exactly a normal conversation topic, you know? Not exactly easy to slip that in at the dinner table.”

Whitley pulled a face, then sighed. “Yeah, alright. I guess it's not exactly your place to tell me that anyway. I mean, Taylor should be able to come out on his schedule, you know.”

Nodding, I asked, “So, did you talk to him? Besides what me and Zac saw?”

“Yeah, he called me after that and I met him for lunch today. He told me how confused he was, and that he's sorry I got caught in the middle of it. I guess he freaked out at the party because he saw a guy he had... well, anyway, he wasn't expecting to see that guy there. And I guess the guy wasn't happy to see Taylor either. The whole thing still sucks for me, but I'm glad to get the truth out of him finally,” Whitley said. 

“So, does this mean I'm not the only one without a date for the homecoming dance?” I asked, biting my lip. Maybe that wasn't the most tactful question to ask.

“Actually,” Whitley said, drawing the word out. “I'm going with Taylor and Justine is going with Joseph. She didn't tell you? I guess you weren't there in the coffee shop when we figured it all out. It's the easiest way for Tay and Joey to be together at the dance without being totally obvious yet. Although Joey is way out of the closet, Tay's still taking baby steps out of his.”

“So it does mean I'm the only one without a date.”

“Afraid so.”

Dr. Ansary peeked her head out of the green room door. “Time to start back, girls. We only have a few more days to pull this show together.”

I took a quick drink from the water fountain, then followed Whitley back into the green room. We were doing a full run through of the play that night, which meant that all the actors were required to wait backstage just as they would during a performance. I knew my first entrance didn't come for several pages, but I wanted to go ahead and be ready for it so I went on backstage and began pacing, running through my lines in my mind.

I felt his presence behind me before he spoke. A warm shadow descending on me, peering over my shoulder. A tingle crept up my spine.

“Donovan.”

“Yes?”

“You shouldn't creep up on people like that. It might really scare some people,” I hissed.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and I wanted to shrink away from it, but I didn't. “I just wanted to see why you were pacing.”

I rolled my eyes, glad to still have my back to him so he wouldn't see the gesture. “Running through my lines. It helps me to pace while I do it.”

“Are you nervous?” He asked and I could hear the hint of laughter in his question, and maybe even a little sarcasm.

“Of course I'm nervous,” I replied tersely. “If I wasn't nervous, it wouldn't be worth doing. The nerves just mean I still have emotions. That I care about my performance. I like the nerves.”

Just as I expected, he didn't have a clue how to respond to that. He was calm and collected in all situations; of course he didn't understand letting yourself be guided by your nerves. 

“Well, I was thinking... they've got this homecoming dance a couple days from now, and it's silly, but would you like to go with me?”

Was he fucking kidding me? 

I turned around and looked at him. His face was completely serious. He really thought I would say yes? “Umm, don't you think it's a little late to ask me that? It's two days away, how do you know I don't already have a date?”

“Oh, let me guess. You're going with Zac,” Donovan sneered.

I shook my head. “No, I'm not. But you just assume that I'm gonna be willing and able to just come running back to you?”

“I miss you, alright?” Donovan said, placing his hand on my arm. It gave me chills. “I think you and me could be good together. We make a good Hamlet and Ophelia, don't we?”

While I was still formulating a response, he leaned down and silenced me, pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was forceful enough that I couldn't have pushed him away. And it wasn't that bad of a kiss. I relaxed my lips against his and followed his lead, willing to let the kiss play out as long as he was.

After what seemed forever, he pulled away. I could hear Kelsey delivering the lines leading up to Donovan's next cue. He looked at me with imploring eyes. I stood on my tiptoes and leaned in as though I were going to kiss him again. When we were as close to eye level as possible, I hissed, “Hamlet is a bipolar sociopath and Ophelia kills herself. We are not our characters. And I won't go to the dance with you.”


	21. What We May Be

The entire homecoming week, of course, was meant to lead up to the football game that Saturday afternoon. All current students and alumni were granted free admission, so even though we didn't know a thing about football, the three of us girls decided to go. 

Truthfully, the biggest reason I wanted to go was to see Zac play in the band during the half-time show. I knew he had been too shy and self-conscious to ask me to go to any of the other games, and I would have been charged admission for most of those, anyway. Homecoming seemed like the perfect time to support him and cheer him on from the stands, even if he couldn't see and didn't know I was there.

I still didn't know what Zac and I were. I was too afraid of ruining what we had just begun building back up to ask questions like that. We weren't going to homecoming together, and I was reasonably sure that we also weren't dating. But we weren't just friends. At least, I didn't think so. I was slowly beginning to admit that what I felt for him wasn't just friendly, and I didn't think that his feelings for me were either, especially if his song was anything to go by.

After we had shown our student IDs at the gate and made our way into the stadium, Justine turned to Whitley and asked, “Is Taylor coming to the game, too?”

“No, he's busy getting ready for the dance. You know how he is; it will take him longer to get ready than all three of us combined,” Whitley replied.

The band had their own special section of the bleachers that was even roped off his streamers in our school colors. We managed to find empty seats very close to it, and no words needed to be exchanged; all three of of us immediately knew that we had found the perfect spot to cheer Zac on. 

For several minutes, the three of us weren't really able to exchange any words. The loudspeakers pumped out a stream of horrible pop music meant to pep the crowd up, but all it did was drown out our thoughts. I didn't mind having my thoughts quieted for once, though. When the music ended, the silence that followed was almost more deafening. We all glanced around, waiting for something to happen. The tension and excitement in the crowd was almost a tangible thing.

From somewhere in the distance, a drum beat began to sound, growing louder and closer by the second. Soon we could see the drumline marching into the stadium, with the rest of the band following behind them. The rest of them were silent, letting the drummers' cadence announce their presence. Even from a distance, and with their matching uniforms on, I could tell which one was Zac, pouring his all into the snare drum strapped to his chest.

For the first time, I didn't try to fight the butterflies that welled up in my stomach at the sight of him. I couldn't help it. I didn't _want_ to help it. Maybe I still wasn't quite ready to tell him, but I could at least admit to myself how I felt about him. Zac was the one I wanted, and I think he was the one I had wanted all along. I just hadn't known how to admit it. He was so different from every other guy I'd known that I didn't even understand what it was that he made me feel.

But now I understood.

When he paused at the band's section of the bleachers, the three of us yelled and whistled. He wasn't supposed to break formation, but I saw the way he glanced over at me and grinned that sideways grin. He saw me – in a way that no one else did. We shared that secret little look for just a split second before he took his spot in the pit.

I really don't remember much about the game itself. I'll be honest, we didn't spend a lot of time actually watching it, especially since none of us are experts on sports. Instead, us three girls sat there cheering on the band and discussing hair and makeup for the dance that night. It wasn't a conversation I was happy to take part in, though, since Zac hadn't worked up the nerve to ask me to the dance. Maybe I should have asked him, but I didn't feel that bold.

“Toria, did you hear me?” Justine asked, yelling over the din of the crowd.

I shook my head.

Justine rolled her eyes. “I asked how you wanted me to fix your hair tonight.”

“It doesn't matter,” I replied. “It's not like I have anyone to impress. Do whatever you want.”

“You're right. You've already impressed Zac.”

After that, it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Well, it doesn't matter if I have. He's not my date.”

Whitley and Justine shared a look that I couldn't quite interpret. I didn't have a chance to ask what it meant, though. The band began to play a loud, peppy song to lead us into halftime. Apparently, we were winning. 

After both teams had made their way off the field, it was the band's turn. With one quick glance up at me, Zac followed the rest of the drumline onto the field. Someone on the loudspeaker announced that the band would be performing a halftime show of songs by Andrew Lloyd Webber and the drum major called them to attention. Much like the football game itself, I didn't really see or hear anything other than Zac. From that distance, I couldn't tell if he was looking at me too, but I hoped he was.

Once the band had finished, I offered to go pick up some snacks from the concession stand. I figured that since halftime was over, the crowd would have thinned a bit and I wouldn't have to wait too long. Since the band didn't have to play during the 3rd quarter, I wanted to get back as soon as I could to spend a little time with Zac.

I walked by the band section quickly, but paused when I heard Zac call out my name. “Toria! Hey, Tor!”

I spun around and saw him leaning over the barrier, still clutching a drumstick in the hand he was waving in my direction. He was above me on the bleachers, but I could still see his smile stretching all the way across his face. As I closed the distance between us, he crouched down and peeked through the railing so that we were almost face to face.

“Hey, Zac. I was just going to get some snacks. Are you allowed to eat in uniform?”

“Sadly, no,” he said. “But I won't tell if you won't. Get me some nachos? I've gotta put my drums up and then I'll come sit with you guys for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, realizing that my own smile was just as wide as his. It felt so good to finally be near him again and not have things be so weird. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“See ya soon,” he said. He hesitated for a moment, like he was contemplating something, then poked his head through the railing and kissed my cheek. 

Blood rushed to my face and I was sure that my cheeks were bright red as I walked across the stadium to the concession stand, but I didn't care. I didn't care if everyone there saw and me and Zac together. It felt too good to care about whatever consequences there could possibly be. But, for once, there weren't any. We were free to be together and it felt amazing.

I waited impatiently in line to get our snacks and found that my order was even larger than I had the arms to carry. In the end, I only bought one order of nachos, but I didn't think Zac would mind sharing with me. He was well known for his food stealing, anyway. Finally, after what felt like hours, I headed back to our spot in the bleachers, my arms loaded down with sodas, nachos and popcorn.

As I approached our spot, I could see that Zac was already there, having shed his uniform coat to reveal a thin white t-shirt underneath. The blush I had almost rid myself of came back when I saw that his shirt was soaked through with sweat. How had I been friends with him for so long and not noticed just how beautiful he was? 

He was leaning over Justine, listening very intently to whatever Whitley was saying. He glanced up as I approached and Whitley fell silent. I could only assume they were talking about me, and I wasn't sure I even wanted to ask. I didn't get a chance, anyway, as Zac was on his feet grabbing food from my arms before I could even open my mouth to ask for help.

“Don't get too grabby, mister,” I said. “Only the nachos are yours, and you've gotta share them with me.”

“I am totally okay with that,” Zac replied, handing Justine and Whitley's sodas and popcorn off. “I just hope you weren't very hungry.”

“Oh, I know my appetite is no match for yours. I'll be alright,” I said. 

Justine and Whitley gave each other another little look, but I chose to ignore it. Zac didn't seem to notice either; he was too focused on his nachos. The four of us ate our food in relative silence for a few minutes. Zac was the first to break the silence, with a mouth still full of food. “So, you girls enjoying the game?”

“We really just came to see you play,” Whitley replied. 

My blush returned. It appeared that was going to be a permanent fixture on my face. Zac turned to me and beamed. “Really? Little old me?”

“Yeah, really,” I managed to say. “You're not so bad out there with your little snare, you know.”

“I've always aspired to be not so bad.”

I grinned. “Mission accomplished.”

He handed the nachos off to me. “Here. Finish these before I get cheese all over my pants or the director catches me breaking rules. I've got to get back to my spot pretty soon, anyway.”

“Aww, already?” I asked.

He nodded. “Afraid so. We only get a short break. I wish I could spend a little more time with you, though.”

Justine giggled. “Well, you'll see her at the dance tonight, won't you?”

“Yeah, I suppose I will,” Zac said, glancing at Justine with a look on his face that I didn't quite understand. “I'm surprised you girls aren't already off getting all dolled up anyway.”

“Oh, we'll be rushing off as soon as the game is over,” Whitley said. “Got to look good for... our boys.”

There was something going on, some weird exchange happening here, that I just didn't quite understand. I couldn't find the right words to even ask them about it. Instead I just ate what few nachos Zac had left for me while he discussed some midterm art project with Justine. Even though something big had changed between Zac and me, it still felt wonderful for our little group to be back to normal-–whatever normal was anymore.

But it couldn't last forever. A sharp whistle announced that it was time for him to return to his spot with the band. Zac turned back to me and pouted, his bottom lip sticking out pitifully. I laughed and pulled him into a hug, not even caring if I got his sweat all over me. 

“Now you go play the hell out of that drum, okay?” I said, pulling back and giving him another smile.

“Of course,” he replied, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “I'll see you later, okay? You better save me a dance or two.”

With one last smile, his eyes sparkling like they were full of some wonderful secret, he stood up and walked away. I couldn't help watching his every step. I cursed myself for not having the nerve to ask him to be my date for the dance, and I cursed him for not doing the same. Somehow we were both so close to what we wanted, but so far, too.


	22. A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends

“I still can't believe you're okay with all this,” I said to Whitley, resisting the urge to turn my head to look at her when I spoke. Justine had instructed me not to move an inch while she filled my hair with curlers. I still wasn't sure it was going to work, but she insisted that my hair was no match for her brand new hot rollers.

From somewhere outside my peripheral vision, Whitley replied, “Well I'm still upset about the way it all happened. But he's being honest with me now. I can forgive just about anyone for anything if they're truthful about it.”

“So is he gay, then? I mean, I just don't get it,” Justine said.

“I don't know. He's still figuring it out. And he says it wouldn't be fair for him to be with me while he's figuring it out,” Whitley replied.

“But he can be with Joseph?” I asked, picking at one of my freshly painted fingernails.

Whitley groaned. “Ugh, I don't know. He isn't really with Joseph. I mean, I guess they are together. It's weird. For what it's worth, I think he's totally gay.”

I winced as Justine touched one of the very hot rollers to my scalp. She didn't seem to notice at all, which was pretty typical Justine behavior. Bracing myself against the pain, I said, “Well, he doesn't have to pick. Maybe he's just a four or five on the Kinsey scale. And that's perfectly alright.”

“Oh, totally. I'm not saying I have a problem with him being gay. I just wish he could figure it out so I'd know how hopeless my crush on him is,” Whitley replied. She finally came into view, walking toward my desk to dig through the shoebox of nail polish sitting on top of it.

Justine pinned another curler into my hair and said, “Crush?”

“Yeah,” Whitley replied. “Maybe that's why I'm not stressing so much about this all. Because I realized that it is still just kind of a crush. It's not like I'm in love with him. We went from acquaintances to practically lovers, and now we're figuring out how to be friends. And I think we're probably better off just as friends. I can lust after him from afar once I know where that line is drawn, you know?”

I am so not the one to talk to about lusting after friends, I thought. But I didn't dare say that out loud. I'm sure Justine knew I was thinking it, though. Instead, I only said, “It doesn't sound like it's ever gonna be a really solid line, though. Can you deal with that?”

“I guess I'll have to,” Whitley replied. She might have said something else, but her phone began to ring and drowned her out. She ran to my bed and cried out, “Ooh, I've got to answer this. Be right back.”

She ran out in the hallway with her phone still ringing and I wondered who could have been calling that was so urgent. Justine soon finished up with the curlers and for that I was grateful. I needed to stand and stretch my legs; it felt as though I had been stuck in that chair for hours. I readjusted the tie on my bathrobe and grabbed my razor and shave gel, hoping to give my legs a quick shave at the bathroom sink. 

I opened the door to my room and strode out into the hall without looking to see if it was clear. I had noticed other girls doing that, but it rarely occurred to me to check if anyone were coming. Even if they were, it wouldn't really give me pause. I wasn't that self-conscious about my body.

“Be over here by 7, okay?” Whitley said, her voice strangely low. “I told you already, it's fuchsia. Yes, like hot pink. Yes.”

When I walked by her, she looked as though she had seen a ghost. I offered her a smile and a wave, and she returned it with her own very weak wave and a forced smile. I figured that my footsteps in my shower sandals must have been quieter than I realized, and didn't think much else about it, continuing on to the bathroom and hoping there was a free sink.

Several minutes later, I hobbled back to my room, nursing a rather nasty cut on my left ankle. I had lost my balance just as I brought the razor down on that tricky side of my ankle, and my leg came crashing down off the sink, causing my razor to clip off a hunk of skin. Luckily I was planning on wearing pumps, not sandals, so my bandage would mostly be covered. Once I had made it back to my room, I cleaned the wound and slapped a band-aid on it, then set about to fix the polish on the toenail that I had also chipped during my little slip-up.

Other than that little misadventure, the rest of our preparations for the dance went rather smoothly. The three of us took turns crouching or sitting in front of the full length mirror to put our makeup on, and once that was all done, I sat down again for Justine to finish my hair.

“Alright, alright. Can I see how it looks? See how badly you've fucked it up?” I joked, practically ready to jump out of my chair. I didn't know why I was so excited; I was the only one of us without a date and I knew I would just spend the night feeling like a very awkward fifth wheel.

Justine poked me with a bobby pin, this time on purpose. “I didn't fuck it up. It looks great, I swear. Go check it out, I'm finished.”

She gave the 'do one last spritz of hairspray and nudged me out of the chair. I hopped up and hurried to the mirror, which Whitley had just vacated after finishing her own hair. When I saw Justine's creation in the mirror, I actually let out a tiny squeal of joy. The curls that I hadn't believed she could create were all piled up on top of my head in a giant, messy mass. The most impressive part of it all was that the entire thing was held up only by bobby pins, which was what gave it such a loose and carefree sort of look. A few strands hung loose and dangled around my face in small ringlets. It was perfect.

Feeling much better about the whole hair situation, I walked over to the closet and retrieved my dress. I wiggled my way into it while Justine and Whitley did the same with theirs. One last check of my makeup and I was ready to go. 

“Okay, the boys should be here any minute,” Whitley said, checking the time on her cell phone before squeezing it into her tiny gold clutch. 

With perfect theatrical timing, a knock came at the door. Justine rushed over to answer it, finding that, naturally, it was Taylor and Joseph. They were both impeccably dressed, and I had expected no less of them. Joseph wore a pair of slim fitting pinstripe pants and a white dress shirt with just a few buttons undone-–no tie, of course. Taylor wore black slacks that were even more slim fitting than Joseph's-–a feat I was surprised was even possible-–and a baby blue dress shirt, unbuttoned a little to reveal a white wife beater underneath. It wasn't very dressy, really, but the look suited him. And of course, those damn necklaces that he always wore. Both boys came bearing flowers, which they handed to their “dates.” 

Justine and Whitley made small talk with the boys while attempting to pin the corsages around their wrists. Both matched their dresses perfectly. Justine's was a mixture of coral and creamy white roses, and Whitley's was light pinks that contrasted nicely with her dress. 

I did my best to ignore them and finish gathering up my keys, wallet and such into the black satin clutch I had bought a few years ago for a high school homecoming dance. It had a huge matching satin flower on the front and had cost far too much, but I begged my mother to buy it for me. She conceded finally, but swore it was the only such purse I'd ever own. I'd gotten plenty of use out of it, so I figured it was worth the hassle.

I didn't really notice any of what the four of them were chattering about; my mind seemed to be buzzing and drowning them out. So it came as a surprise when another knock at the door sounded, snapping me back to earth. I looked around the room at everyone's faces, wondering who it could possibly be. Whitley and Taylor looked at each other, then back at me, like they were keeping some sort of secret.

When it seemed no one else was going to answer it, I finally walked over the door and opened it, too impatient to bother with the peephole. What I saw standing there took my breath away. Zac stood inches in front of me, in black slacks and matching jacket, with a gray button up shirt underneath. The dirty black chucks on his feet kept him from looking too perfect, even though I was pretty sure he had even taken the time to brush his hair. His right hand was still poised in the air to knock again and his left held a florist's box containing what appeared to be a deep pink corsage very near to the shade of my dress. 

“Can I come in or would you prefer I stay out here?”

I stared at him in disbelief and moved aside, allowing him to walk into the room. My mind refused to process the situation other than to think how crowded the tiny dorm room had become. When I looked around at everyone else, I realized quickly that they all knew something about the situation that I didn't. None of them looked surprised to see Zac.

Finally finding my voice again, I manged to croak out, “Okay, someone tell me what the hell is going on here and why I wasn't informed.”

Zac looked deeply hurt, his big brown eyes searching mine to see if I were truly angry at him. I wasn't. Just confused.

He took a step toward me. “Well, I knew you didn't have a date. So... here I am. Your date.”

“My date,” I repeated, slowly. The words tasted strange in my mouth.

He nodded. 

“I want to be really, really upset with you right now. I broke up with the other boy who just assumed he knew what I wanted, you know,” I said.

“I'm sorry?” Zac said, the words much more a question than a statement. He looked as though he were ready to walk back out of the room and pretend he'd never been there.

I took a step toward him and put my hand on his trembling arm. “But the difference is, I wouldn't have said no if you had just asked me.”

At that, he broke into a smile that overtook his entire face. His eyes twinkled as he fumbled to open the florist's box and remove the corsage. I offered him a hand to help fasten it around my wrist. Our hands brushed against each other and it felt like a jolt of electricity between them. Not like a static charge, the kind that makes you jump back and feel all jittery and wrong. But the kind that tingles and sends your hairs on end and makes your stomach turn somersaults. 

I could tell that Zac felt it too, but neither of us had a chance to say anything before Taylor's voice burst in.

“Alright guys, let's go. Unless we want to wait and arrive _after_ the punch has been spiked.”

The others laughed, but Zac and I were stuck in our own little world. Just he and I. Our eyes were locked together. I didn't know what to say to him at all but maybe that was okay. Maybe my hand still holding his, the roses on my corsage crushed against his wrist and tickling mine, maybe that said it all. 

We followed the other two couples-–for lack of a better word for them-–out of the dorm room and down the elevator, not speaking until we reached the outside and the cool, mid-October air. I felt a chill run up my back and I stopped walking. Zac did the same and looked at me with concern.

“Are you cold, babe?” He asked, and I felt another chill, but of a different sort, at his word choice.

I nodded. “I had a little shawl I meant to grab in case it was cold, but I forgot.”

“That's no problem. Just wear my jacket,” he replied.

He shrugged out of his jacket, holding it out toward me. I made no move to take it from him, so he laid it over my shoulders and enveloped me in his arms, pulling me tight to his side. I hoped he wouldn't get cold, but the warmth we shared between us then seemed like it would be enough to keep out any chill or anything at all the world could throw at us.

We reached the dance around ten minutes later. It was held in the smaller of the college's gymnasiums, which was really more than enough room for the crowd gathered there. I supposed most of the people who were really planning to party that night hadn't bothered with the formality of the dance. The place had been given a few decorations-–some streamers to walk through in the doorway, a mirrored overlay covering the wooden gym floor, and gigantic balls of paper flowers in the school colors dangled from the ceiling. Banners cheering on the football team hung on the farthest wall behind the table of refreshments and I thought that looked a bit tacky, but I appreciated the effort at school spirit.

Whitley drug Taylor, Justine and Joseph onto the dance floor nearly as soon as we arrived, but Zac and I were able to escape her and we found a nice secluded table away from most of the flurry of the room. 

“Zac, why did you do it?” I asked during the short pause between songs.

“I don't know,” he replied. “I do lots of things. Which one in particular are we referring to?”

“Tonight with the corsage and the date. Two nights ago with the song. All of that stuff,” I replied, hoping that the words I left unsaid would fill in the gaps.

“Because I wanted to. Simple as that. Isn't that the best reason to do anything? Because it's the thing you want more than anything else.”

The next song began, a jarring cacophony of synthesizer and bad vocals that drowned out any reply I might have made. But I hadn't planned, couldn't even begin to plan, any reply. No words would come. Like me, he had left the big things unsaid. Then again, he hadn't. He had said exactly what he meant and exactly what I had hoped to hear.

_The thing you want more than anything else._

I looked over at the dance floor and saw Whitley and Taylor engaged in what looked like nothing so much as a cross between dirty dancing and the macarena. Nearby, Justine and Joseph looked on in amusement, dancing more sedately, and, truth be told, with a bit more skill. To their left, I noticed Isaac and a pretty blonde in a red dress who I assumed must be his wife. I thought Zac had told me her name was Melissa, but I didn't recall for certain. 

Zac and I sat in a rather comfortable silence for the rest of that song, since it was difficult to really talk over the music without shouting. We would occasionally point discretely and laugh or make knowing faces at certain people's clothing or dance moves. When the song ended, the party of six all walked back to our table. Isaac picked up two chairs from a nearby table and swung them around to ours. 

“Toria, you met Isaac the other night, kinda,” Zac said, then gestured to the petite blonde at his arm. “This is his wife Melissa. This is my–-my Victoria.”

I don't think his hesitation went unnoticed by anyone at the table, but thankfully no one spoke up about it. Isaac smiled and nodded his recognition of me, and his wife gave me a sweet smile and offered her hand to me. 

“I'm glad they let us sneak in here. I don't think the dance was technically supposed to be open to alumni,” Isaac said.

The conversation moved on to small talk about the boys' performance at the open mic and it was all to much for me to bear. Everything seemed to be happening too fast, yet the most important things were still going unsaid. I pushed my chair back and stood up. “I'm going to go get some punch, I think. Zac, do you want anything? Or anyone else, would any of you guys like anything?”

“Some punch would be good,” Zac looked up at me and replied with a smile.

Everyone else shook their heads or mumbled something in the negative, so I set off alone for the long table of refreshments that lined the back wall of the gym. I headed for the punch first, wondering if Taylor had been joking about someone spiking it. Surely that was only the sort of thing that happened in those cheesy college movies. I dipped out a cup of punch and continued on down the line of snacks, in the reverse direction, against the current of hungry and thirsty students.

Nothing on display really caught my appetite, however. I picked up a small sandwich and took a small bite of it. When my stomach didn't decide to stage a revolt, I figured I would be able to finish the thing. I was in no hurry to make it back to our table, though. I could already hear all the questions Isaac and Melissa would have for me, like “How did you and Zac meet?” or “Oh, how long have you two been together?” And then there was the gigantic purple elephant in the room with Taylor's name written on it's side in big glittery letters. Altogether a lot of potential awkward moments awaited me at that table and I wanted no part of it.

A lingering warmth at my side caught my attention and I turned to see Donovan standing there, a plate of cookies and chocolate covered strawberries in his hand. 

“Don't. Just don't,” I said, swallowing a bite of my ham on white bread. “I can promise you I won't listen.”

“You lied to me.”

I shook my head. “No, I didn't. Not really.”

 _Not with my words_ , I thought to myself.

Donovan forged on, obviously choosing not to believe me. “You're here with him. And you said you wouldn't be.”

“What I said was true when I said it,” I replied. The slithering syllables caught in my mouth and I realized the punch I was sipping had quite a telling bite to it. Maybe Taylor wasn't joking after all. Another sip and I was certain I could taste vodka. Donovan was speaking again and I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus on his words.

“But then he asked you? And you just couldn't turn him down like you did me. He had the better proposition, did he?”

“He had the more honest one. I can't explain it. He doesn't make assumptions and demands of me like you do,” I said, the words of Zac's song floating back into my head.

“Fine. Have it your way,” Donovan replied and turned to walk away.

“For once, that's my plan,” I said to his retreating figure.

Once Donovan was out of sight and I was sure my feet were functioning again, I wandered back to the punch bowl to refill my cup and grab a second one for Zac. When I returned to our table I saw that everyone else had gone back to the dance floor, leaving him alone and looking a bit sad and out of place. I slipped into the seat next to him and offered him a smile as I held out his plastic cup.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the cup from me. “What took ya so long?”

I rolled my eyes. “Darling, you really don't want to know.”

“Ooh, is this...” he trailed off, staring down into his cup.

“I think so,” I replied. “Bottoms up, eh?”

“Now I know why you called me darling,” Zac replied, taking another sip of the most certainly spiked punch.

I grinned. “Please, I'd call you darling anyway. If I started calling you sweetcheeks or babycakes, then you'd have reason to worry.”

“What if I wanted you to call me babycakes?” Zac asked, giving me the goofiest puppy dog eyes and batting his long dark eyelashes at me. 

“Then you should ask nicely, of course,” I replied, trying to keep a straight face, but quickly collapsing into laughter that threatened to shake the cup of punch clear out of my hand. Luckily I had nearly emptied it, so I managed not to spill any.

The song that had been playing-–some pop remix I thought I had heard on the radio, but couldn't have recalled the name or singer--faded away into “Truly Madly Deeply.” I briefly wondered if a rip in the space time continuum had transported us back to a middle school dance, but I figured that wasn't likely. I downed the rest of my punch and felt the vodka that had settled to the bottom of the cup tickle my throat as it went down.

I set my empty cup down on the table and watched Zac do the same. As soon as his hands were empty, I took both of them in mine and said, “We're dancing. I don't care if you don't dance, we're dancing.”

“It's not that I don't dance. It's that I _can't_ dance.”

I stood up, tugging on his arms until he stood as well. “It's a slow song, Zac. All you have to do is sway back and forth a little and subtly molest me.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” Zac said, grinning widely. “I think I might have the skills required after all.”

“I had a feeling you might,” I replied, dragging him toward the dance floor. 

We found an open spot near Isaac and Melissa on the edge of the crowd and I pulled Zac close to me, wrapping his arms around my back. He didn't really need much guidance there, his arms naturally fell into place, resting gently on my hips and sending a shiver down my spine. Our chests were pressed close together, just enough for me to feeling his heart beating. I wrapped my hands around his neck and tangled one of them in the short hairs on the back of his neck. He made a face at first, like I had tickled him, but soon he relaxed under my touch. I imagined, from the look on his face, that he would be purring like a contented kitten if he could. I rested my face against his chest so he wouldn't see the goofy smile threatening to overtake my face.

Zac's pulled me closer to him and began to sing softly against my hair. “I wanna stand with you on a mountain... I wanna bath with you in the sea... I want to live like this forever, until the stars fall down on me...”

I wanted to ask him if that was a promise, but I wasn't sure I could believe in that kind of promise anyway. He probably couldn't have answered, if I had. I knew how ridiculous of a question it was. But spending forever in that moment, our bodies pressed against each other and his soft voice singing just for me, sounded like the most wonderful proposition I had ever imagined. To repeat that for the rest of my life was a version of groundhog day that I wouldn't mind at all.

Naturally, the song ended far too soon. The last notes blended abruptly into Britney Spears and Zac pulled away from me reluctantly.

“Oh no, I'm not done with you yet,” I replied, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to me.

He began shaking his head, vigorously. “No. No. Absolutely no, no fucking way. I can sway and molest, but I can't dance to this.”

“It's easy,” I said, sliding my hands onto his hips. I started to move my own and used my hands to make him imitate my movements as best I could. “Pretend you're making love to me. That shouldn't take much imagination.”

“Putting those kind of thoughts in my head is not going to make this easier,” he replied, and I could feel his back tensing a little as he struggled to pull away from me. I tightened my grip and inched myself closer to him.

“Come on, Zacky... I'm having fun, here. Dance with me,” I replied.

He finally conceded and loosened his muscles to follow my lead, more or less. He wasn't much of a dancer; he hadn't been lying about that. But it would certainly do.

“Alright,” he replied, “But I think these moves would be more fun elsewhere... say, somewhere a little more private than the middle of the gym, in front of my brothers.”

I leaned my head back and laughed. This moment wasn't quite as perfect as the one before, but I was enjoying it too. Then a scream rang out, loud enough to be heard even over the music and all the noise.


	23. More Things In Heaven And Earth

Everyone within several feet of us stopped dancing. I realized the scream must have come from very close by, and I whipped my head around to find the source. It didn't take long. Whitley lay on the floor a few feet away sobbing and clutching at her right leg. Her knee looked wrong. I couldn't think of a better way to describe it. It just looked... wrong. 

“I think she's dislocated it!” I heard Taylor cry out from where he knelt on the floor next to her.

I grabbed Zac's hand and pushed past the people milling about, gawking at her. I realized that nearly the entire room had to come to halt; even the music had stopped as everyone clamored to see what had happened.

“Whit! Are you okay?” I cried, looking down at her.

She shook her head and, between sobs managed to say, “N-no. It really fucking hurts. I h-had surgery on it a couple years ago. Fucking dance classes.”

“We need to get her to the hospital,” Joseph said, his voice startling me as I realized he was standing just to my side. 

Taylor looked up at him with annoyance and snapped, “She's not gonna be able to stand, Joey!” 

“Make her a splint out of something so she can! I don't know, can't we pop it back into place?” Joseph asked, hands on his hips.

“No!” Whitley screamed. She looked at Taylor, her eyes pleading. “Please, please don't try. That's what doctors are for. Just get me off the floor somehow and get me to the ER.”

Isaac stepped up and said, “I'm parked pretty close. I'll bring my car around into the fire lane, and you guys can figure out how to get her to it, okay?”

We all nodded, but we looked terrified. None of us seemed to be able to figure out any way to move her and it was obvious that she wasn't going anywhere under her own power. Some of the other theatre people were gathered around, debating on different materials they could use to craft a splint, but none of them sounded like anything we could easily find in a gym. Things were looking altogether hopeless and Whitley's sobs were getting louder and louder by the second.

Zac let go of my hand and stepped confidently forward. He leaned down to Whitley and said something to her that I couldn't hear. She still continued to cry, but she nodded apprehensively. Then Zac slipped his arms around her, one cradling her back and the other around her thighs, being careful not to touch her knee. In one smooth motion that seemed as easy for him as picking up a pencil, he lifted Whitley off the floor. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, but I think it was more for her own comfort than because she feared he would drop her.

I followed behind him as he made a path through the crowd and toward the gym doors. I was amazed by how little he seemed to be exerting himself. I knew he was strong, I had felt the muscles in his arms and his strong back and shoulders, but this was ridiculous. Apparently I was falling for a superhero. 

We soon reached the outside of the gym and I could hear the music coming back on, strains of it following us through the doors as they closed. A large black SUV, the fancier and newer version of a Jeep Cherokee like my own, sat waiting in the fire lane, its engine still running. Isaac, Melissa and Taylor stood outside of it, with the back door open and waiting.

“Damn, Zac. I didn't know you had turned into a jock at college,” Isaac said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Marching band is good for something. Just help me get her in here, alright?” Zac replied, coming to a stop in front of the door. “Here, take her legs and put them in the car.”

Taylor gently took hold of Whitley's legs and guided them into the backseat. Once her legs were inside, Whitley was able to let go of Zac and scoot herself the rest of the way into the seat. 

“Thank you so much, Zac,” she said, reaching back out of the car to give him a small sideways hug, then motioning for someone to shut the door.

Taylor slammed the door shut, then rushed around to the other side. I wasn't sure how he was going to fit in there with her spread out across the seat, but I was glad to see he was concerned about going with her. Melissa hopped into the passenger seat and left Isac standing with me and Zac.

“Should we...” I started say, then trailed off as I remembered the two cups of spiked punch.

“You guys can stay here, I think we've got it covered,” Isaac said. “Besides, I can smell the alcohol on you guys. Lay off the punch, alright?”

Zac giggled a little, but then straightened up. “We're probably not gonna just go back and keep partying. I think we'll leave here soon.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I think I'm done with the dance. Make sure you guys call us later and let us know how she's doing, alright?”

“Will do,” Isaac said, then gave Zac and pat on the shoulder and walked on around to the driver's side of the car. The door had barely slammed shut before he had the car in drive and was peeling out of the fire lane toward the street.

I took Zac's hand in mine and turned to walk back into the gym to get our things. Justine and Joseph stood by the door, their hands and arms piled down with coats and purses, some of which I could tell belonged to us. 

“Hey, we figured you guys were just about ready to leave too,” Joseph said, carefully sipping a cup of punch.

“Yeah, we were just coming to get our things. You think Whitley will be okay?” I said.

Joseph shrugged Zac's jacket off his arm and handed it to him. “I don't know. If it's just dislocated, she'll be out of the hospital before too long. She'll be on crutches and pain meds, though.”

Justine held out my purse to me and I accepted it. “Crutches? Oh no! How's she gonna do the play?”

“She probably won't, but that's still better than any other scenarios,” Justine replied. “So we're gonna walk to that diner down the street and get something to eat. Do you want to come with?”

I looked up at Zac and he shook his head. 

“Nah, I think we'll just go back to the dorm. I'm thinking I had a little too much punch already,” I replied. And truthfully, I had. The adrenaline of dealing with Whitley's emergency had begun to wear off, leaving me feeling a little dizzy and very blurry around the edges. I had a feeling Zac felt quite similar.

“Yeah, we're gonna go back and get some sleep,” Zac said. “See you guys later.”

“Alright, bye,” Joseph said.

Justine gave me a knowing smile and waved goodbye, then trotted off behind Joseph. I slipped my hand into Zac's, hoping to anchor myself a little bit, and said, “Well? Back to my room or yours?”

“Yours. Evan's always bringing girls back to the room, and it gets a little awkward,” he replied. With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he added. “Besides, we know Justine won't be there.”

“You scoundrel!” I squealed, with false alarm.

“Madam, do you think I meant country matters?” He replied, feigning innocence, then winking at me. 

_I sure as hell hope you do_ , I thought to myself but only laughed and smiled at him as we began walking down the street back to Johnson. It wasn't a fun walk in heels, but at least the little bit of alcohol in my blood kept me from being terribly bothered by the chill in the air. 

We made it back to the dorm in what seemed to be no time, but I figured that was the alcohol talking, too. As we stood in the elevator, watching it tick off the floors, Zac finally broke the silence between us.

“So, I saw you talking to Donovan.”

Horrible timing, Zachary. Absolutely horrible. 

“He started it,” I said, realizing too late just how childish that sounded.

“What did he say?”

The elevator bell chimed and I stepped off in front of Zac, not looking at him as I began fumbling in my purse for my keys.

“Well? I know he said something.”

“Just some stupid shit about being upset that I was at the dance with you and not him,” I finally replied. “Not that he was surprised, of course.”

“Wait, you mean he asked you?” Zac said, sounding shocked.

I looked up from my door where I had been attempting to turn the key. “Yeah? He did. So what?”

“You said no?” 

Finally the key turned and I flung open the door, but didn't enter the room. Standing in the doorway, blocking Zac from entering too, I replied, “Of course I said no. He made a big deal out of all this bullshit with you, which is why I broke up with him, and then he just assumed I would go to the dance with him.”

I could tell by the look on Zac's face that I hadn't worded that particularly well. I thought about trying to backtrack and say it again differently, but the damage was already done.

“Wait – what?” Zac asked. “Bullshit with me? What – _bullshit?_ ”

“I umm... I mean, he kept bugging me about us. I didn't mean you were bullshit. I meant he's full of bullshit. Kept going on about thinking there was something between us that I was lying to him about,” I finally managed to choke it all out, stumbling over nearly every word.

Zac walked me into the room and shut the door behind us, locking it as well.

“Then the boy is more observant than I gave him credit for,” he replied, chuckling a little.

I sat my purse down on my desk, then looked back up at Zac. I began picking the bobby pins out of my hair and said, “I guess. He isn't really that dumb, I don't think. Just a little self-absorbed.”

He nodded. “And he knew that we were...”

“No, he thought that we were sleeping together,” I said, cutting off whatever Zac had been about to say. My hands were already filling with pins; nearly thirty of them had come out already and I could tell there were still many more.

He took a few big steps toward me, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting it fall to the floor. “Well, personally, I think we ought to be. Sleeping together, I mean.”

I blushed and continued picking the pins out of my hair, feeling the curls starting to fall around my neck and face. There must have been nearly sixty of those pins. “But wouldn't that just prove Donovan right? I would hate to do that.”

Zac appeared to be contemplating it, then put his arm around my waist and said, “You've got a point. But in this case, I think it's alright. We just won't tell him about it.”

I dropped my handfuls of bobby pins as Zac closed the gap between us and kissed my lips hard. He tangled his hand in my hair, sending the last few pins tumbling into the floor as well. His tongue snaked out to run across my lips and part them gently. I didn't require any more prodding than that to give him access to my mouth. He tasted sweet and a little tangy, like the punch. 

When he pulled back from our kiss, I stood there trembling, wanting more. I shook out my hair to loosen all the curls and make sure the pins were all gone. I imagined that I looked like a mad woman, with giant curls jutting out from my head at strange angles, but it didn't seem to bother Zac. He wrapped his hands around my waist like when we danced, and pressed his lips to my neck, kissing and sucking at the flesh there. His fingers danced across the fabric of my dress, then began to tug at it, pulling the fabric up. I tried to slip out of my shoes without losing my balance and sending us toppling into the floor.

“I dunno about you, dear,” I whispered against the side of his face, “but I am not nearly sober enough to do this standing up, so I think we should make for the bed.”

“That's a great idea,” he replied, pulling away from my neck for just long enough to say it, then kissing up the side of my face as he walked us toward the bed.

We toppled onto the bed in a tangled heap of limbs, my dress already inching well up my thighs thanks to Zac's hands. I tugged at the buttons of his shirt, trying to free them as quickly as possible without ripping one. I finally managed to undo them all and pushed the shirt down off his shoulders. Zac pulled away from me and sat up long enough to remove the shirt fully and I took the opportunity to grab the front of his pants and undo the button and zipper. With the fabric barely loosened I could already see his erection straining to break free, and I smiled.

He blushed, obviously following my eyes and knowing exactly what I was smiling about. “Tor, can you promise me something?”

“Depends,” I replied, confused by his sudden serious tone. 

He ran his hand up and down my side, making me shiver. “Just promise me you're not going to cut this short. I don't think my patience is going to hold out much longer. You're the only thing keeping us apart now.”

I sighed, partially because of the chills his fingertips were giving me and partially because of the blow his words had dealt me. I knew he was right, though. I had always been the big obstacle in our path. “I promise. I want this... all the way.” 

“Really? There's no way we can go back from this and pretend we're just friends,” he replied.

“Fuck being friends. It's overrated.”

Zac grinned and pressed his lips to my neck again. He ran his hand down my side, pausing to cup my breast through the dress, his fingertips grazing across my nipple. When I gasped a little, he ran his hand on down my side, and continued inching my dress further up my thighs. He nibbled harder at my neck and I gasped louder. While I was distracted by that sensation, he slipped his hand into my lacy panties. This time, my response was somewhere between a gasp and a moan. Almost against my will, my hips rolled against his.

He took this as encouragement and slid his hand out of my panties to pull them off and fling the little slip of lace across the room. His hands slid up my thighs again, tugging at my dress like he wasn't really sure what to do with it but wanted it gone. I pushed against his chest a little so he would give me room, and sat up. 

“Help me, Zacky...” I said, grabbing his hands.

At first he looked at me quizzically, then realized what I meant and reached around to feel the zipper of my dress. Once he had lowered it about halfway, I was able to wiggle the dress down my body and shove it off the side of my bed. With the dress gone, his hands began traveling all over my body, exploring every inch of new flesh revealed to him. I tugged harder at his shirt and pants until he finally took the hint and removed them. 

Like they were pulled by magnets, his hands found my flesh again as quickly as possible. I slid my hands down his back and under the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down until I could reach no further and he was forced to wiggle himself the rest of the way out of them. Then we lay there for a moment, feeling all of our flesh pressing together. He was warm and soft, but also firm – not skin and bones, but with a comforting firmness and weight that made me feel loved and protected.

His hands ran up and down my chest, cupping my breasts and kneading them, tugging at my nipples until I could make no sound but small squeaks of pain and pleasure mingling together. Zac ran his left hand up and down my thigh, then between my legs again, slipping it up and down my slit even more tentatively than before. He pressed his finger past my entrance, feeling it slip easily into the wetness growing for him there. 

When I moaned in pleasure at the feeling of his finger inside me, he all too quickly pulled it back out. He raised himself back up and glanced down at our bodies. “Umm, if we're going to see this thing through, I should probably get a... a condom.”

I nodded. “There's a bag of them in my top dresser drawer.”

“A whole bag? Damn, woman,” he said, jumping up and scurrying across the room.

“The RA handed them out to us after we moved in. I wasn't really planning on having a use for all of them.”

Zac stared down at the bag, which contained a wide variety supplied by the campus nurse, taking his time to select one that struck his fancy. Finally, he turned back toward the bed. “I mean, I'm only one man. But I'm willing to try using all of those if you are.”

I laughed, not even feeling self conscious at all about joking around with him while we were both completely naked. Somehow, that just seemed to suit us. He climbed back onto the bed and knelt between my legs, his brow furrowing as he tore the condom package open and carefully rolled it on. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips gently against my cheek, then whispered in my ear.

“Are you ready?”

“Oh god, yes,” I whispered my reply, my voice more hoarse than I expected it to be.

He needed no other encouragement. Slowly, teasingly, he guided his penis into me. He was larger than I had realized and I felt myself stretched to accept him, but in the best way possible. The warmth of it filled me and I relaxed around him, wrapped my arms and legs around him encouragingly.

Zac pressed his face into the side of my neck and slowly began to thrust into me. As I whimpered and moaned against his hair, he built speed. We kissed sloppily, our lips crashing together and our tongues fighting for dominance. 

Beneath him, I arched my back, wanting to feel even closer to him yet knowing it wasn't really possible. We were touching in every way we could and yet it didn't seem like enough. He filled me with this yearning that wouldn't seem to subside, this ache just growing and growing deep inside me. I raked my fingernails across his back and listened to the beautiful sound of his moan, feeling his lips against my cheek as he did so.

This was the best feeling. This was the moment I wanted to last forever. The yearning continued to grow until the ache began turning into a cool, tingly burn, starting from deep inside me and radiating outward. It washed over me, leaving me feeling like I was sinking under the weight off this unbearable feeling, this sheer pleasure. I cried out and wrapped my legs tighter around Zac's thighs, pressing my nails further into the flesh of his back. He moaned again, the sound growing and morphing into a full on growl.

My vision subsided for a moment, and when it returned Zac lay panting on my chest and my legs lacked the strength to stay wrapped around him. Every part of me tingled with a sort of electricity and I didn't want to move an inch. If I didn't move, we could stay locked in this perfect moment for eternity, I thought. But I knew that was silly. 

Zac made the first move. I could tell he didn't want to, but he slowly withdrew from me and rolled over to lay on his back next to me. He lay still there for a moment, then slowly pulled himself off the bed to throw the condom away. He tossed a few articles of clothing onto the bed and sat down next to me to put his briefs back on. I fumbled to pull on my panties and the wife beater which actually belonged to him–-the very one he had worn that night. It still smelled like some fancy cologne mixed with his soap.

But I didn't need to smell it. I had the real thing right there. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to me, nuzzling my face against the side of his, in the nape of his neck. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just sighed and placed a small kiss against his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat.

He placed his hand against my face, turning it upward so he could look me in the eyes, then he kissed me on the lips. The kiss was soft and gentle, the perfect goodnight kiss between lovers. When we parted, I scooted down to press my face into his bare chest. 

He wrapped his arms tight around me and sighed. “We should dance more often.”

I couldn't have agreed more.


	24. Drown The Stage With Tears

The following Monday, after class, I had a delicate balancing act to make my way through. Zac and I spent nearly every waking moment together even before we were dating-–I was pretty sure it was safe to use that word, even though we hadn't ye- and that hadn't changed in the days and hours since the homecoming dance. Luckily, Justine came up with the perfect excuse to drag him away for a study session for their math class. That left me with a little time that afternoon to go shopping and then meet up with everyone else at the coffee shop for a secret planning session.

I hadn't even realized that Zac's birthday was approaching so quickly until he made some small comment about it the day before. With that realization, I somehow managed to throw together this last minute planning session in between class and rehearsal. The shopping trip had, luckily, not taken very long. I spotted the perfect gift almost immediately, so I arrived at the coffee shop just in time to eat a late dinner of coffee and salad with everyone else. They had, of course, begun without me, but that was okay.

“Hey, Toria!” Taylor called out as I walked in the door. Surprisingly, for a Monday, the shop wasn't very busy, so it didn't take me long to spot my friends crowded around the counter. 

Taylor and Joseph both stood behind the counter, since they were working, and I had to laugh at how similar their posture was. They did make a cute couple; no one could really deny that. Whitley had pulled two of the bar stools together so that she could prop her leg up. Luckily, her knee had only been dislocated with no permanent damage, but she was still in a lot of pain, and both the crutches and the immobilizer brace she wore meant that she couldn't get around very easily. She was taking it pretty well, though. It probably helped that Zac's roommate, Evan, seemed to be paying her some extra attention lately.

“Please tell me you guys have finished planning the entire thing without my help,” I said, throwing myself onto the last empty bar stool. “Can I get my usual latte and one of those Caesar salads?”

“Sure thing,” Joseph said, rushing off to fill the order.

“Sadly, we aren't anywhere close to finished,” Whitley said. “We had just made the fairly obvious decision to have the party at Taylor's apartment.”

Taylor waved off my money as Joseph handed the food to me, then adopted a serious look. “And if you fuckers trash the place, I'm making the birthday boy clean it up. Just because I can.”

“I can just feel the brotherly love,” I replied, taking a large sip of my drink. “So, what about a cake? What's his favorite? I feel like I should know these kind of things, since I am his... umm...”

I clammed up before I could actually say the word. It didn't feel wrong, but it did feel weird. Even though it had been building for so long, it had only really just happened to us. How could I put a label on something like Zac, anyway? There wasn't a single word in the English language that described him, so it just felt wrong to pick out some word for our relationship, knowing that whatever word I did choose, it just wasn't enough.

Luckily, everyone had the good sense to ignore my awkward moment and carry on with their conversation as though nothing strange had happened. Taylor didn't skip a beat in replying, “Turtle cheesecake. I'll pick one up, since it will be easiest for me to hide it from him. He's not allowed in my kitchen.”

“Good rule,” I replied. “You could lose your whole paycheck to that boy's appetite.”

“So I think, basically, the plan is just to throw up some streamers, balloons and stuff like that,” Evan added.

“Are we going to invite anyone else? Like, some of his band friends?” I asked.

Evan, who was a trumpet player in the band, shrugged. “Sure, I can ask some of them. There's a couple other guys in the drumline that he's friends with. But I dunno; do we want to have a huge party?”

“Well, I've already got plenty of alcohol and drinking games galore,” Taylor said. “So why not? We can have a good time. It's a weekend, so what's the harm?”

I frowned. “Parties haven't exactly been the best time in the world for me and Zac, but... it'll be different if it's just a little group, right?”

Taylor offered me a knowing look. “Absolutely. It'll be fine.”

Whitley glanced at her cell phone. “Hey, it's about time for rehearsal. Tell everyone I wish I could be there.”

I finished shoveling in the last of my salad, since it was the only dinner I was going to get, and gave Whitley a quick hug. “I wish you could be there. I don't know how I'm going to face... certain people... without you there.”

“Oh, you'll be fine,” Whitley said. “It's almost Hell Week, anyway, so everyone is going to be too focused on the show to cause any drama.”

“I hope you're right.”

I really, really hoped that Whitley was right. She knew better than I did how the theatre at VCU operated, but I still couldn't imagine this week and the following Hell Week being much fun with not only the drama between Donovan and me, but a new person coming into the cast at the least minute. Because of that little bump in the road, Dr. Ansary had decided to give us an extra long week of full tech runs just to make sure we were extra prepared; it was more like Hell Half-A-Month than just Hell Week. When we ran through all the tech cues Sunday afternoon, Dr. Ansary had kept mum about who the new addition was, but promised she would be ready to make her debut during tonight's full run through.

Since I had rushed through dinner, I arrived at the theatre with a few minutes to spare. That was good; I would need that time to get in the proper head space to perform. I tossed my backpack down in the green room and settled into a chair to wait for the stage manager, Adrienne, to give me the five minute call. Everything tonight would run exactly like a show – no scripts, no calling for line, no goofing around, and definitely no cell phones. Which meant I jumped straight out of the chair when I heard my cell phone ding to announce a new text. I fumbled through my bag and pulled it out to see that the text was, naturally, from Zac.

_if i never see another quadratic equation again it will be too soon. how are you doing?? break a leg tonight_

I laughed, and discretely typed a reply before any could walk in and see that I was breaking one of the cardinal rules of Dr. Ansary's theatre.

_i'm good :) rehearsal hasn't started yet_

I turned the phone on silent and, just as an extra precaution, tucked it under my leg so that no one would see it. Only a few seconds later, I felt it buzz, and pulled it out to read Zac's reply.

_well have fun :) i miss you already_

That familiar, wide smile spread across my face when I read his words. Before I could reply, though, the green room door swung open and Adrienne poked her head in. From behind her clipboard, she said, “Five minutes until we would normally start, but Dr. Ansary wants to have a quick meeting out in the house.”

“I'll be right there,” I replied, holding my breath that she didn't say anything about the cell phone still poised in my hand. She didn't, and after I let out that breath, I typed a last reply to Zac.

_gotta put my phone away & be ophelia now. miss you too. come by my room at 10, plz? later :)_

I turned the phone off and tucked back into my purse without waiting for his reply; he knew how strict the theatre was, so I knew I wouldn't upset him if I didn't reply to whatever cute response he made next. I hurried out of the the green room and into the theatre to see what Dr. Ansary had to say. I was sure I could imagine the generic speech she would give, but I was curious to see who she would be announcing as Whitley's replacement.

Other actors were still milling around and finding their way to seats when I entered the theatre, but despite their relaxed attitudes, the nervousness and tension in the room was still obvious. Hell Week was, well, _hell_ even during an easy show with a cast who liked each other. Speaking of which, Donovan did not even glance up from his seat in the corner when I walked in, and for that, I was glad.

I settled into a spot in the second row that I thought was fairly inconspicuous and watched as the rest of the students shuffled in and found their seats. At first, I didn't notice anyone new, so I wondered if Dr. Ansary had just promoted a crew member. I didn't think that was likely, since few of them also acted. As I was considering the situation, a new figure walked across the stage and made my stomach turn.

Christin.

Of course it was her. How had I expected anyone else? It was just my luck that she would show up again now that I was happy with Zac. Maybe she wouldn't cause any problems, but I could tell just by her smirk when she glanced in my direction that that probably wasn't going to be the case. No, she wouldn't make this easy for me. I supposed that no one ever would; at least _I_ was trying now, but that didn't mean the rest of the world was just going to go my way.

I spent most of Dr. Ansary's speech feeling sorry for myself and didn't really hear a word of it. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before, of course-–mostly a lot of encouragement to put on a good show, reminders that we were in performance mode now, and some information about cues and other such things largely for Christin's benefit. The speech dragged on and on, as directors often do, but finally she dismissed us with a loud clap and sent us scattering off to our spots for the top of the show.

I settled back into my spot in one of the green room chairs. Although it was actually across the hallway from backstage, a small monitor mounted to the wall allowed anyone in the room to hear the actors onstage; that way, we could relax on the couches and not worry about missing our cues. Surprisingly, the room was empty. I think everyone else was too nervous to stray so far from backstage, but I wanted the privacy.

Not surprisingly, the privacy didn't last for long. Just as the pre-show music faded and the actors began to speak their lines, Christin bounded into the room and sat down on the couch next to my chair. She pulled a nail file from her pocket and began fixing her manicure, which I had no doubt was already perfect. She looked positively bored, and I supposed I would be too if I had as small a part in the show as she did. 

We sat there in awkward silence for a while, until she finally spoke without even glancing up at me. “So, are you liking it here at VCU? Meeting any nice guys?”

“Umm,” I replied. It wasn't one of my more eloquent moments, I'll admit.

She finally looked up, shooting me a knowing look. “Yeah, I met a lot of boys my freshman year, too. Never knew which ones to trust.”

I wasn't sure exactly what she was implying, but I didn't think I liked it. I cleared my throat and squeaked out, “Some of them are nice.”

Christin smiled. “Yeah, like Zac. He's _really_ nice. At least, in some ways.”

I blanched. She couldn't possibly be implying what it seemed like she was implying... or could she? I stared at her blankly, finding my usual propensity for quick remarks had seemingly deserted me.

She tilted her head to the side and seemed to consider her next statement for a moment before making it. “Oh... I suppose it isn't my place to tell you. Let's just say, you might want to keep a close watch on him. He might have wandering eyes, and he _definitely_ has wandering hands.”

Yes, she was definitely implying what I thought she was implying. Luckily, I didn't have time to even consider a reply. Over the monitor, I heard Claudius deliver a line that meant my cue was coming soon. I rushed out of the green room before Christin could say anything else, but I could still see her mischievous blue eyes following me.

I tried not to think about what she had said, instead focusing all of my thoughts and efforts on throwing myself headlong into my performance. It worked fairly well, even when I was face to face with Donovan and his equally evil smirk. But during the moments when I wasn't onstage, my thoughts flew back to what Christin had said and I found myself growing ill. I hid in a corner of the backstage area, secluded behind a stack of black boxes, just so I wouldn't have to face her again.

She had to be lying, I told myself, but I wasn't convinced. Even through the haze of alcohol, I could remember their hands wandering all over each other in the middle of that party. And anyway, Zac and I hadn't even been together then. What right did I have to get upset about what he might have done with her, when I had fooled around with him while I was supposed to be Donovan's girlfriend? I was a hypocrite. Not surprisingly, that realization did not make me feel better.

I felt absolutely, positively sick. My mind filled with images of Zac doing the same things to Christin that he had done to me. I wondered if he was the same with her – sweet but passionate. I wondered if his eyes sparkled the same way when he looked at her. Did he fall asleep in her arms as easily as he did mine? It made me sick to even think about it. How could he do any of that with her while he claimed he was waiting for me?

With all of those awful thoughts swirling around my mind, it was a miracle that I remembered any of my lines. When Hamlet spat at me and yelled about nunneries, I felt every inch the whore he said I was. When I, as Ophelia, danced around the stage showering everyone with flowers, all I could see in my mind was Zac entwined with Christin, kissing her face and neck just as he had kissed mine. I felt used. I wondered if this was how Zac felt when I kissed him with the same lips I used to call myself Donovan's girlfriend. 

The play seemed to end abruptly, Hamlet's death pulling me suddenly from my mind. Someone shoved me onstage for curtain call, and I thought I might bend over and shower the stage with that salad and latte I had shoveled in earlier. Dr. Ansary dismissed us with a wave, promising to deliver her notes before the next night's run through, and I rushed from the stage, shoving past the other actors with reckless abandon. 

My backpack was where I had left it in the green room and I pulled my cell phone from it before slinging it over my shoulder. One new text from Zac, the screen told me, and I flipped it open to see what he had to say.

_finished rehearsing yet? can't wait to see you_

I frowned at the screen. His words were, on the surface, sweet, but they turned my stomach. Everything felt wrong. I didn't want to lie to him, but at that moment, it seemed the easiest thing to do, to just run away from my problems. I could worry about solving them later.

_yeah but i'm really tired. rain check? we can hang out tomorrow, k?_

I didn't wait for his reply. I stabbed the phone's power button and watched it shut down. I was a coward, and I didn't care at all. 


	25. An Unperfect Actor

Hell Week gave me a perfect, all too easy, excuse not to spend much time with Zac. At the same time, I continued to beat myself up for it. There was just no way to win. If I told him why I was upset, not only would I sound like a petty bitch, but I was certain that he would just deny it all. And maybe that would be the truth, but how would I know? I wanted to trust him, but something kept making me pull back into my shell and refuse to get too close.

That fear of commitment would be the death of me, I was sure. But knowing that didn't make it any easier to overcome it.

Despite our extra long Hell Week, Dr. Ansary conceded to let us still have Friday off, which just so happened to be Zac's birthday. For the entire week, we had barely spoken outside of class, lunch and dinner. He hadn't said a word, but I could tell that he knew something was wrong. He still came over after rehearsal almost every night, but we barely talked. I tried to blame that on my exhaustion from the grueling rehearsal schedule, but I'm sure he saw through that excuse. When I fell asleep on his chest the previous night, he crept out and left me to sleep on my own rather than stay in bed with me. Waking up alone left me feeling horribly lonely and the whole day seemed off because of it.

Zac and I didn't have class together that day, so I didn't see him again until I went into the food court for lunch. He was sitting at our usual table all by himself-–everyone else was off setting up for his surprise party-–sporting a ridiculous party hat covered in glitter and foil. It looked kind of funny to see such a cheerful sight, even though he was all alone. _Only Zac_ , I thought to myself as I went through the line for a sandwich and chips.

With my tray of food in hand, I made my way to the table. Zac shot me a huge grin when he saw me approach and for a moment my fears and doubts subsided. I grinned right back at him. “Happy birthday, Zac.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Isn't this hat awesome? Evan gave it to me this morning.”

“It suits you,” I replied, sitting down next to him. “I guess you're having a pretty good birthday so far, huh?”

“Yup. It'll be even better if I finally get to spend some time with you, though. I was thinking we could go out to Nacho Mama's tonight. What do you think?” He nudged me softly.

I shrugged. “Maybe late tonight? I've got this big essay I need to work on... haven't really had time because of theatre, you know.”

It was a complete lie, but I was pretty sure I had pulled it off. I didn't feel bad about lying to him about that, since the truth was that I planned on spending the afternoon at Taylor's apartment, setting up the party decorations.

He frowned. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, we can have a late dinner, I guess. I just wish we had more time together right now. This isn't really a good way to start our...”

“Our what?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“Our relationship,” he replied, blushing. “You know what I mean, lady. I mean, you passed out on me last night and I had to sneak out so I wouldn't wake you.”

I frowned at his word choice. “Why did you have to leave, though?”

“Well, you keep saying you're so busy and exhausted because of theatre... figured you didn't need any distractions while you were trying to sleep,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I guess you're right,” I conceded, even though I still felt awkward about the entire situation. “I'll make it up to you tonight, okay? I promise.”

“Okay, deal,” he said, the easy smile returning to his face. 

Despite how easily Zac had relaxed, I couldn't make myself calm down so easily. I was nervous about the party, for one, thing. But I couldn't shake the feeling that Zac was right; our relationship just wasn't getting off on the right foot. And I didn't know how to fix that, especially with everything else that we had done while we were still taking baby steps toward each other.

****

“So, are there any balloons left in Richmond? Did you buy them all?” Whitley asked from her spot on Taylor's couch, where she sat blowing up balloons for the party. It was the easiest job for her to do while the rest of us worried about hanging streamers and setting up the food and drinks.

“Well...” Taylor replied, scratching his head and looking sheepish.

As if on cue, Joseph walked through the door, holding onto an armful of helium balloons with various birthday greetings all over them. The entire room burst into laughter, and Joseph wisely chose to ignore us.

I finished arranging the shot glasses and bottles of nearly every sort of liquor imaginable--apparently Taylor was quite a lush-–and walked over to the kitchen table to observe the array of food. It was almost as vast as the selection of alcohol, and the cheesecake Taylor had picked out sported impressive sparkler candles. Everything looked perfect there, and the streamers and balloons made the rest of the apartment look pretty damn festive. Zac was going to love it, I was certain.

“So, you think it's time to call the birthday boy?” I asked.

“Yeah. I've got it covered,” Taylor replied, setting down the last bag of potato chips and fishing his phone from his pocket. 

I sat down on the couch next to Whitley and sighed. Everything might have looked perfect, but to me, it definitely didn't feel perfect. As much as I tried to hide that, I could tell from the way Whitley stared at me that she knew something was wrong. She nudged me with her crutch. “What's up, girly?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “Just... everything with Zac is a little overwhelming, you know?”

“Yeah, well, I'm sick of it! I'm going to throw all your laundry out on the lawn if you don't come over here right now and get it!” Taylor's voice rang out, drowning out whatever Whitley might have said next. Despite his angry words, he was smiling and giving us all a thumbs up. Yeah, he definitely had things covered.

Whitley laughed and shook her head. “It may be overwhelming to you, but the rest of us saw it happening a long time before you did. Just give it time to sink in and you'll be alright. You guys are kinda perfect together, if you ask me.”

“I didn't really ask you,” I said softly. 

Taylor shut his phone and let out a loud laugh. “Okay. That was fun. And not altogether an empty threat. He's on his way over now, so everyone-–except for the cripple-–needs to find a place to hide.”

“I'm not too crippled to do this,” Whitley said, thrusting her middle finger in the air.

I shook my head and laughed as I rushed off to hide by the bookshelf at the door. Despite my frustration with Zac and our situation, I did want to be one of the first to greet him and see the surprise on his face. I didn't think he suspected at all that all of his best friends-–me, Justine, Whitley, Taylor, Joseph, Evan and a few guys from the band whose names I admittedly couldn't remember-–had all gathered just for him. Considering how much he liked being the center of attention, I knew he was going to love this.

Only a few short minutes passed before we could hear a key turning in the door. Since Zac did his laundry at Taylor's apartment most of the time and occasionally slept there when Evan had someone over, he had his own key. A hush fell over the room as we waited for him to walk in. 

“Tay, I swear to god if you--”

“SURPRISE!”

Zac blinked and stared around the room blankly. “What? You-–what about my laundry?!”

I giggled and jumped out from behind the bookshelf, wrapping Zac up in my arms and kissing his cheek. “Don't worry. Your laundry is safe. We just needed an excuse to get the birthday boy over here.”

“Did you plan this?” He asked, returning my kiss with one of his own. 

“Yup. With a little help.”

“You're the best girlfriend ever.”

There was that word again. My face flushed and my stomach turned, but I tried to keep a smile on my face so that no one would notice. Everyone was gathering around us, ready to begin the party, and I didn't want to bring the mood down. But that one little word had reminded me of all my fears and doubts, and I knew my mood had changed for the worse.

Zac was quickly rushed from my side and into the kitchen, where a huge pile of presents waited for him in the floor. Most of them were pretty generic and predictable-–art supplies of all varieties. Taylor bought him a fancy set of drumsticks that promised to be indestructible even in Zac's hands, and Evan surprised him with the brand new Jimmy Eat World CD. I made sure to save my present for last; I had hid it behind the refrigerator, away from the rest of the presents. Sheepishly, I held it out to Zac.

Zac grinned and tore into the wrapping paper. First, he pulled out the more obvious present, a box of brand new crayons in 96 different colors. Beneath that lay a small volume of Shakespeare's sonnets. I knew Zac loved to read, but I had a feeling he hadn't made it through _all_ of William's works. 

“Aww! Thank you, baby,” he said, pulling me to him and kissing me. Everyone around us cheered and I felt myself blushing. My previous desire to be more public with him seemed to have completely deserted me.

He didn't seem to notice my hesitance, though. Or, if he did, there was simply too much going on around us for him to be overly concerned about it. Before we could say anything else to each other, Taylor was shoving him toward the cake and lighting the sparklers. Zac blew them out in one breath, then flashed me a wide grin. It was as though everything he said or did required my approval or comment. It was kind of cute but also a little smothering.

Zac insisted on cutting the cake, probably to ensure that he would get the largest piece. He piled his plate down with not only cake, but chips, ice cream and a slice of pizza, before rushing back to my side. He smiled at me between bites of cake. “Are you hungry? I should have gotten you a plate first. I'm sorry.”

I shook my head. “No, I'm fine. I'll get a slice of pizza or something, but I'm okay for now.”

“You sure, babe?” He asked, frowning. I couldn't help smiling a little at the way his brow furrowed with concern; his face was just so animated. 

“Yeah, I'm okay. Just exhausted.”

Zac offered me a sympathetic smile, but didn't have time to say anything before Evan rushed up to his side and slung an arm around his shoulder. “So, I think it's about time we got some alcohol in the birthday boy! Tay's setting up a game of spoons. What do you say?”

I shook my head. “I'll sit this one out. Maybe I'll have that pizza now.”

“Well, I think I'll play a game or two,” Zac said to Evan, then turned back to me. “You don't mind, do you?”

“No, go ahead.”

And I really didn't mind. That wasn't a lie at all. I was glad that the party was going well, but I just hadn't been happy all week. Everything Christin had said, true or not, had brought me down and made me fear that this new relationship was doomed. It was all too easy to let Zac get swept up in the excitement of the party while I stayed on the sidelines with my bad mood.

Despite not having much of an appetite, I did decide to eat a few slices of pizza, mostly to occupy my mouth so that I wouldn't have to talk to anyone. I stayed in the kitchen, watching the party go on around me, but not participating in any of it. No one really seemed to notice, and that almost upset me more than it would have if they had noticed. 

When it became obvious that Zac was more interested in his drinking games than spending time with me, I wandered off down the hallway. Taylor's apartment had two bedrooms, and I figured the extra one would be empty. I was right, and I tossed myself down on the bed. I could still hear the party going on around me, but I tried to ignore it.

“Toria?” Zac's voice rang out, and I looked up to see him leaning against the door frame. “What are you doing in here? Why aren't you partying?”

“Just didn't feel like it.”

He walked across the room and sat down next to me on the bed. I could smell the liquor on him. “You haven't even had anything to drink, have you?”

I shook my head. “Didn't seem like a good idea. Drinking tends to lead to bad decisions.”

“That's not always true. I kissed you for the first time when I was drunk.”

His comment tugged at my heartstrings for a second, until I remembered who else he kissed when he was drunk. I frowned. “Yeah, well...”

“Well what?” Zac asked. “What's going on here?”

“Nothing is going on. You're drunk and I wish you weren't. End of story.”

Refusing to accept that response, apparently, Zac flopped down onto the bed and grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. “That's really not an answer. You're upset with me and I don't know what I did.”

“It's more like _who_ you did.”

“Who I...” Zac furrowed his brow. “I didn't _do_ anyone other than you, and I really don't like putting it that way.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you were just too drunk to remember.”

Zac rolled over and stood up. “I don't have to listen to this shit. You cheated on _your boyfriend_ with me, and you care what I did when you were busy with him? Fuck that. It's none of your business, and it is definitely not your place to judge me.”

I gasped. Maybe he wasn't as drunk as I thought he was, because that was a pretty lucid outburst. And not entirely wrong, but it still only made me angrier. I didn't like having it pointed out, if not exactly stated, that I had been pretty slutty. I didn't need that reminder. 

“I don't have to listen to this shit, either,” I said, standing up and pulling myself to my full height to glare at Zac. I knew I still wasn't intimidating, but it made me feel better.

“Why don't you just leave, then? Go running back to him. See if I care.”

We stood there for a long time, just staring at each other. I searched Zac's eyes for some hint that he would care if I walked out right then, but I couldn't find it. All I could see was anger and that familiar drunken haze. None of the tenderness he had shown me before remained. Maybe this was the real Zac, and the sweet boy I had fallen for was only an illusion.

“Fine. Have fun drawing pictures of Christin with those new crayons.”

His eyes flickered and he balled his fists at his sides, but he didn't say a word. His mouth was a tight line, his jaw clenched. If I hadn't known any better, and I was beginning to doubt that I even did, I would have thought he was going to punch me. For just a second, his jaw loosened and he opened his mouth, but no words came out. He shook his head and slammed his mouth shut again, as though he had reconsidered whatever he might have said.

I couldn't handle another second of this stand off. With one last glare, I stormed out of the room. Luckily, everyone in the apartment was too wrapped up in their drinks and revelry to notice me. I dashed through the crowd and out into the parking lot, hoping with each step that Zac would have followed me.

But he didn't.


	26. A Plentiful Lack of Wit

My only saving grace over the next few days was being able to throw myself body and soul into the play. It offered me no answers, and it put me in the path of two of the three people I wanted nothing to do with, but it did keep me away from Zac. 

God, I wanted to run back to him. I did. But every time I felt my resolve weakening, I remembered that he hadn't completely denied being with Christin. He had only yelled at me and reminded me that I was just as bad, if not worse, than him. The awful truth was that if he wasn't what Christin said, I was still what he said, and that meant I didn't deserve him.

There was no way to win. Whatever the truth was, it was a truth that would probably put an end to me and Zac.

I didn't see Zac again until class on Tuesday. We had both classes together that day, but he didn't show up for the first one. I didn't think he was going to show up for the second one either, but he finally wandered in at the last possible second and grudgingly took his seat beside me. He felt miles away. I glanced over at him, but his eyes were focused on Dr. Moberly.

His desk was farther from me than it should have been and I had to stretch to reach his notebook. At first, I thought he wasn't going to loosen his grip and let me take it, but after a moment, he did. Once it was there on my desk, I realized I didn't even know what I wanted to say to him. I just knew that I had to say something. This silence between us wasn't fixing anything, and it left so much just hanging there, undone. Against my better judgment, I wrote the first words that came to mind.

_Can we talk about this?_

I passed the notebook back to Zac and watched his jaw twitch as he read my words. He bored his pen into the paper as he wrote his reply, then practically tossed the notebook back to me.

_There's nothing to talk about._

I picked up my pen to write something else, but Zac yanked the notebook from my hand. He scooted his desk just a few inches away from me, but it was enough to keep me from reaching him. The distance between us was suddenly more than just metaphorical.

I didn't take a single note for the rest of the class. I just couldn't. The only things on my mind were Zac and how awful this whole situation was. When Dr. Moberly finally dismissed us for the afternoon, Zac was the first person out of his seat. I shoved my books in my bag as quickly as I could and rushed to follow him.

He was almost to the door of the building before I could catch him. “Zac! Wait!”

He spun around. “Why? Is there something else you'd like to accuse me of?”

“Zac,” I said, my tone warning him not to say another word. I closed the distance between us as quickly as I could and pulled him outside where we might not cause so much of a scene. “I don't need your wit right now. I just need to talk to you, seriously. I want the truth.”

“Why do you think you deserve the truth?”

I did my best to ignore his malice and forged ahead. “Maybe we haven't been acting like it lately, but I was supposed to be your girlfriend. Did you forget that?”

Zac smirked. “Not as easily as you seemed to forget that you were _supposed_ to be Donovan's girlfriend. I guess I just made him easy to forget, though.”

“What are you trying to say, Zac?”

“I'm trying to say that you don't even realize how hypocritical you're being right now,” he replied, leaning down to glare at me eye to eye. It allowed him to lower his voice to almost a whisper, which made him sound even angrier. “You _cheated_ on him. Have you forgotten that? So whatever I did-–or didn't do-–while you were busy trying to make your mind up or whatever it was you were doing... well, it doesn't matter.”

“It does matter, Zac,” I replied. “If I'm asking you, then it matters to me and I want to know the truth.”

He straightened up and stared off into the distance. “I've asked nothing of you, you know. Only that you admit I was the one you wanted. The one who made you happy. But forget it. I can't make you happy if you don't trust me.”

“I didn't say that I don't trust you.”

“You didn't have to.”

****

I could hardly believe that it was already time for the play two open. Only two more days, in fact. The only thing that made it real was the fact that we were finally in full dress for rehearsal. My costume was a beautiful, long green gown based on all of those Waterhouse paintings of Ophelia. It was beautiful, and it required a lot of help to get into it.

It was just my luck, of course, that Tuesday night, the only other person in the dressing room with me was Christin. I didn't really feel shy about changing in front of her, but it was definitely awkward. I wasn't going to stoop as low as to compare our bodies and try to figure out which one Zac might have liked better. But I could feel her eyes on me.

“Do you need help with your dress?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, suddenly feeling dumb for wondering why she was looking at me. I was staring off into space with the back of my dress undone. I must have looked so weird. “Just start the zipper, if you don't mind.”

“Of course,” she said crossing behind me and wiggling the zipper up. 

I felt ridiculous for worrying about her judging me. Who was she to judge me, after all? If anything, she was the other woman. Not that I had exactly been the _first_ woman at the time, but I liked to think I held more of Zac's heart than she did. Maybe not, though. It was all a mess and I didn't know what to think. 

She finished the zipper and did up the hook at the top that would make the whole thing lay nicely onstage. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” I said, not feeling quite up to looking at her. With my back still turned, I retrieved my belt from the rack of costumes and began to put it on. 

“Care to do mine now?” Christin asked. 

“Sure,” I replied, turning around and brushing her hair out of the way so I could zip up her dress. It was a little more intricate than mine-–she was playing a player _Queen_ , after all – but the basic design was similar enough. 

As I struggled to zip it past her waist-–the costume was originally meant for Whitley, who was apparently skinnier-–she began to speak. “You know, I did feel bad telling you about Zac. I didn't want to hurt you.”

“Oh.”

“It's just that I would want to know if the guy I was with had another girl, too. Wouldn't you? But maybe you and Zac weren't that serious anyway. I mean, weren't you with Donovan anyway?”

I noticed the way Christin seemed to laugh a little at the end of her question. There was something spiteful about it. Realization was just beginning to dawn on me, like a little nagging itch you can't reach, but I didn't yet know what I was realizing. Christin spun around and gave me an evil little grin. “Don't worry, honey. If Zac is unfaithful to you... well, I'll be the first one to tell you.”

As she sashayed away from me, layers of satin billowing behind her, I felt that nagging itch of realization again. Things were beginning, slowly, to take shape in my mind. There was something altogether calculating and just... _fake_ about Christin. Of course there was-–she was an actress! I knew all too well how we actors could play the people around us to get what we wanted. What Christin wanted was Zac. And who was standing in her way?

Little old me.

And how could she get me out of the way? Play on my doubt and insecurity; I might have been an actress, but those were two things I could never disguise. I had made it almost too easy for her. All she needed to do was plant a few seeds of doubt, make me wonder if Zac was really that devoted to me or if he had only wanted one thing from me-–one thing that he could, perhaps even more easily, get from Christin.

At this point, it didn't even matter if it was true. It didn't matter if he had slept with her; she only needed me to wonder. And I did wonder. But more than that, I hated myself for being exactly what Zac had said-–a hypocrite. He had proven time and time again that he wanted me, while I mistook his devotion for friendship. Meanwhile, I had... had I used him? I didn't like to see it that way, but it wasn't exactly an invalid interpretation.

It hit me fully at the end of the third act. I just didn't deserve Zac.

I had been horrible to him and I didn't blame him at all if his patience had run out. I might have finally come around enough to admit I wanted him, but I wasn't really acting like it. I tried to channel all of the misery I felt into my performance, but I know it still suffered. I didn't care about the show. I wanted to run right out of that building and into Zac's arms, but I didn't think he would have me.

After curtain call, I rushed from the stage, shedding my shoes as soon as I was backstage and tearing bobby pins and clips from my hair as I rushed down the hallway to the dressing room. I wanted to be out of that theatre as soon as I possibly could. I had to find Zac. I had to talk to him. I didn't know if it would change anything, but I had to hope that it would.

Once I had shed my costume and checked out with Adrienne, I walked out into the night and into a storm. From inside the theatre, the thunder and rain had been impossible to hear, so it came as a bit of a shock. What remained of my pretty Ophelia curls were soon washed out entirely by the sudden downpour. But I didn't care if I looked like a complete mess. Zac had seen me at my worse. Without giving the rain another thought, I scurried across campus to our dorm.

I was only a few feet from the door when I saw a familiar figure. I would have known him anywhere-–even though the storm had matted his hair to his head, and his shoulders were slumped, I knew it was Zac. 

“Zac! Hold on the door for me!” I called out.

He turned, his hand on the door handle, and frowned. I thought I saw him shake his head slightly, but he didn't move. When I caught up with him, he held the door open for me without a word. I started to speak to him, but he shoved past me and hurried on down the hallway toward the elevator. I rushed to keep up with him.

“Zac, please...” I said, finding myself at a loss for any other words.

He glanced back at me, but only for a second. It was still enough for me to see the anger in his eyes. He stabbed at the elevator button and the elevator opened for him immediately. I nearly broke into a sprint to reach the elevator before it closed. The doors were already beginning to slide shut when I flew through them, almost losing my balance and colliding with Zac.

I turned and pushed the button for the fifth floor, suddenly wishing that the building was twice as tall. I needed more time with him when he couldn't run and ignore me. From the blank stare on his face, I knew that it didn't matter. He could stand right next to me and still ignore me.

“Zac,” I said. “Please. I need to talk to you.”

He growled under his breath. “I really don't think you do.”

“Yes, I really--”

Suddenly, the elevator ground to a halt and the lights flickered out. We were plunged completely into darkness.


	27. The Rest Is Silence

The only sounds were my pounding heart and Zac's short, angry breaths. I couldn't see a single thing and it took every bit of control I had to keep from screaming out loud. I glanced to my left, but it didn't matter. Although I knew Zac was there, I couldn't see him and I didn't dare reach out to touch him.

“Toria? Are you okay?” He finally asked. 

I nodded, then realized the stupidity of it. “Yeah, I'm okay... just a little scared, to be honest.”

“The storm must have knocked the power out,” he said. I could hear something rustling and feel him moving a little bit. A small light-–coming from his cell phone, I realized-–illuminated a spot just in front of him. “I'm going to call campus security. Maybe I can get through, if the cell towers didn't go out, too.”

“Okay,” I replied, backing up carefully until I was leaning against the back of the elevator. Slowly, I let myself slide down to the floor. 

None of this was going how I had planned it. I had Zac all to myself, but I couldn't even find the words to speak to him. Who knew how long we might be stuck together in that elevator with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife?

“Okay, great,” Zac spoke into his phone. I could feel him sliding down the wall to sit next to me, his phone held out in front of him to shine a little tiny bit of light. “The backup generators should kick on soon, but it may take a while for the elevator to power up again.”

“So we're stuck here for a while.”

“Yeah, but hopefully not for long,” he said. He fished around in his pocket for a second, then pulled out his key chain and turned on the small penlight attached to it. He placed it in the floor in front of us; it didn't create a lot of light, but it helped.

“I guess I'm probably the last person you want to be stuck here with.”

He sighed. “I didn't say that.”

“You didn't really have to,” I replied, not even caring how pitiful and whiny I sounded. “You practically ran from me, you've been ignoring me for days...”

“Did you ever stop to think about why I might be doing all of that?”

I looked over at Zac, the penlight just barely illuminating his face, and I could see so much anger in his eyes, but also so much hurt. My resolve weakened, but only a little. “I'm not stupid, Zac. Maybe I've been acting dumb lately. I'll concede that. But I get that I've upset you, okay?”

“You think?”

“Do you have be such a dick right now? I'm trying to seriously talk to you about this, and you're just throwing everything I say back in my face.”

Zac rolled his eyes. “I'm sorry that I don't have the patience to put up with you right now. But I just don't, okay?”

“Well, I wish you would find just a little bit of patience,” I replied.

He sighed. “Okay. Fine. But not if you're just going to accuse me again.”

“It's not like you can get away from me right now anyway,” I pointed out.

“That's true,” he said, smirking a little. “If I didn't know any better, I would think you planned this.”

“Yes, because I love nothing more than being stuck in enclosed spaces with guys who are angry at me. I just love it.”

“Just say whatever it is you have to say, please? You're as bad with the sarcasm as I am.”

I sighed, and tried to decide exactly where to begin. There just didn't seem to be a good way to start, so I just said the first thing that came to mind. “Look, I get it. I do. I shouldn't have asked you about Christin.”

“Because...?”

“Because I'm a fucking hypocrite, okay?” I said. “Isn't that what you keep telling me? And you're right. I was doing... whatever I was doing... with Donovan, and I didn't have any right to treat you the way I did and then expect you not to be with whoever you wanted to be with, too.”

“You still don't get it. You think you do, but you still can't see the whole picture.”

“Then why don't you explain it to me?”

Zac scooted away from me, as though I had actually punched him or something. I couldn't see all of the emotions on his face, but I didn't need to. His words said it all. “Okay. I'll explain it. You act like I've wronged you so horribly, but what did I do? I kissed a girl. I was drunk, I was angry, and–-oh yeah-–I was _single_. Meanwhile, you couldn't decide which boy you wanted to kiss, so you didn't limit yourself to just one. And I may have been frustrated with you for that, but I never called you out for just how horrible it was.”

I stared at him-–what I could see of him, at least-–blankly. I was suddenly very glad for the power being out because it meant that Zac might not be able to see the tears welling up in my eyes. I knew he was right; I had had the very same revelations on my own. But to hear the words from him, with such venom in his voice, only made me feel worse. I took a deep breath just to steady myself and said, “I know that. I get it, okay? I don't know how else I need to say it for you to get that I understand how horrible I was. What I did... what I did to you was so much worse than what you did. I know that.”

“Yet you still freaked out on me.”

“Yeah, I did,” I replied. “I can't undo that, can I? I can't undo any of the mistakes I've made. I freaked out because I'm an idiot. I thought that you... you...”

“That I what? That I was cheating on you?” He scoffed and shook his head. “You're one to talk about someone cheating.”

“I didn't-–Zac, you kissed me. I'm not saying I didn't have a part in it, but you started us down that path. And okay, fine, I did. I cheated on Donovan with you. Have you ever stopped to think about why I did?”

He didn't say a word, but I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to continue.

“It's because I wanted you more than I wanted him. I'm ashamed it took me so long to realize it, but that's the truth. I'm not just... a cheater. I'm not like that.”

“And I'm not either,” Zac replied, his voice soft and low. “But you assumed I was, even though I never assumed that about you. But you didn't give me a chance to explain any of that. You just jumped to the worst possible conclusions.”

Something in his voice, the sadness I suddenly realized was there, stopped me from replying. What could I say? But I didn't have a chance to speak. A low hum started around us, and the lights flickered back on. The elevator gave a tiny lurch, then slowly began to rise again.

I blinked a few times to readjust to the light. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Zac looking off into the distance, away from me. His face was fixed with sadness-–brows furrowed, lips pursed and his beautiful eyes glistening with tears. I nudged his shoulder so that he would look my way.

“Zac, I-–I'm sorry. I really am.”

When he didn't reply, only stared at me, I couldn't help leaning up and kissing him. He didn't respond at first, but I wasn't deterred until he grasped my shoulders and shoved me away.

“Please don't, Toria.”

My lip quivered and I could feel the tears threatening to fall. “Why? Don't do what?”

“I just can't... this isn't going to work between us, okay?” He stood up and stared at the door as the elevator continued to climb to his floor.

“You don't mean that, do you? You can't,” I replied, grabbing his arm. He still would not look at me. “Zac, please... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accused you, because I know I was even worse. I probably don't even deserve you, but I just wish you would give me another chance.”

The elevator door opened and he pulled his arm free of my grasp. I yanked on his jacket and followed him into the hallway, not even caring that I might cause a scene on his floor. He spun around and stared at me.

“I'm sorry, Toria. My patience ran out. I waited for you, and I made excuses for how you could treat me like... like I was nothing to you... and I'm done. I won't do it again.”


	28. Rosemary for Remembrance

When Thursday morning rolled around, all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Not only was it opening night, which I didn't feel remotely rested enough for, but it was also the day I had class with Zac. For days, it had been so painful to face him, but this was worse.

We weren't together anymore. He had ended it.

It hurt so much to even think about it, but it seemed that was all my mind would focus on. I feared that when I opened my mouth to speak my lines that night, nothing would come out but his name. And I knew I was going to cry when I saw him. There was no doubt in my mind about that.

But he didn't show up for class. I thought it might have been a fluke when he skipped the morning class; he wasn't a morning person in the best of circumstances. When he didn't show up for English either, I knew he was avoiding me. At first, I breathed a little easier, but I didn't understand why he was still so keen to avoid me. I was the one who should have been hurting; he had ended it, not me. I had finally begun to pour my heart out to him, and he threw it back at me.

Was he hurting, too? I supposed he could have been, but I couldn't quite understand it. His pain should have ended now that I wasn't in his life. As I sat there in class, staring at the desk Zac should have been sitting in, passing me silly notes, I wondered if it was possible that he missed me, too. I supposed that, technically, anything was possible, but I just couldn't quite imagine it. Not with the way he had looked at me, the words he had said to me, and the way he had walked away from me. That last look was burned into my memory, and it brought tears to my eyes every time I thought about it.

Somehow, I made it through the day. It was all a haze, though. I didn't hear a single word that any professor said during class, and I couldn't listen to any of the mindless conversation going on around me in the food court. Countless people offered me advice for opening night and told me to break a leg. But my normal joy and anticipation for a show's opening had left me. And I had only myself to blame for it; as much as I wanted to blame Zac, it was my own failings that had pushed him away.

At dinner, I couldn't do more than push the food around my plate and pretend to eat it, but no one pointed that out. I'm sure they noticed, though, but decided just to chalk it up to stage fright. When it was finally time for me to report to the theatre, Whitley, Justine and Evan all wished me well one last time and promised to be in the front row, supporting me. I appreciated the thought, but knowing they would be right there was going to be a major distraction.

I didn't tell them that, though. I just offered them the best smile I could manage, thanked them, and scurried off to the theatre. It was a pretty long walk from the food court and there was definitely a chill in the air, so I pulled my jacket tight and walked as fast as I could. My anxiety to just have the night over with meant that I arrived pretty early, well before the time we were all supposed to report.

Every actor was required to sign a check in sheet-–to prevent the stage manager from having any unnecessary heart attacks-–before going to the dressing room to prepare for the night. As soon as I walked in the theatre door, I made my way to the bulletin board that held the check in list, found my name on it, and initialed the spot beside it. 

“Victoria?” Adrienne called out from further down the hallway. “There's something for you in the dressing room.”

I turned to face her and blinked. “Something for me?”

“Yeah. You'll see when you get there,” she replied with a grin and a twinkle in her eyes. I had no clue what that meant. I didn't even know her very well; she was a senior, so we didn't share any classes, and she hadn't really interacted with me outside of issuing orders during rehearsals. I had no clue what could cause her to grin so much or what could possibly be waiting for me in the dressing room.

I hurried through the complicated series of hallways that made up our backstage area, anxious to see what was waiting for me. I pushed the door open and rushed in, not even caring if all the girls in the room were indecent. 

Cecily was sitting on a stool near the door, putting curlers into her hair. She turned to me and smiled, the same knowing smile that Adrienne had given me. “Looks like someone made a delivery here for you, Victoria.”

“Why does everyone keep telling me that? What is it?” 

She nodded toward a spot further down the makeup table. “See for yourself.”

I glanced down to the spot she had indicated, and my heart leaped into my throat. A large bouquet sat upon the table; not only the traditional red roses, but a mixture of other flowers. As I closed in on it, I could see that the flowers were chosen very particularly. No rosemary for remembrance, but there were pansies and violets for faithfulness and daffodils for forgiveness. And, of course, the red roses-–true love. It was a wonderfully geeky way to say it all, and the message got through loud and clear. I had no doubt at all who the gift was from. Zac had sat with me in my room when I read the worksheet Dr. Ansary had given me on the meaning of flowers. I knew the bouquet was without a doubt from him even before I noticed the envelope behind it with “VICTORIA” written on it in his chicken scratch.

I tore the envelope open and saw that it contained another one of his drawings. It was a comic strip in his adorable anime style. The wide eyed, messy haired boy in the pictures was no doubt meant to be him. I strained my eyes to read the tiny text.

__

_Once upon a time, there was a boy named Zac. He was a twat. He fell for a girl who was totally clueless, but he didn't care. He just wanted to make her as happy as she made him._

I laughed as I recalled the night Zac had called himself a twat, and I had agreed. Then I blushed as I remembered what had happened immediately afterward. Luckily, he hadn't chosen to illustrate that. Instead, he had drawn a picture of me, with him chasing behind, his eyes turned to huge hearts.

__

_They were both bad to each other because they were too stubborn to admit their feelings. So he wrote her a song and it totally wasn't creepy or anything._

I laughed aloud at that, and the accompanying drawing of Zac cursing at the piano. My laughter was loud enough to draw Cecily to my side. I was a little embarrassed to share his comic with her, but I didn't think it could hurt anything. The next panel showed the two of us dancing.

__

_Somehow, the song worked and she admitted that she felt the same way! Everything was perfect for a few days._

The next panel made me tear up. His sad eyes stared at me, a single pale blue tear running down his face. Even in his silly anime style, he had perfectly captured the look on his face when we were stuck in the elevator together.

__

_Then she asked him a question and he blew up at her. She apologized, but he wouldn't listen. Because, as we've already established, he's a twat._

“He's a twat?” Cecily asked, laughing a little.

I nodded. “Yes. He is. It's part of his charm.”

_So he bought her flowers and drew her this comic, because she's the ONLY girl he wants to draw pictures of. And he really hopes it's enough for her to forgive him and take him back._

“Of course it is!” I said out loud, even though he wasn't there to see or hear it. 

Christin chose that exact moment to burst into the dressing room and she raised an eyebrow at me and my massive bouquet, but didn't say a word. I was glad for that, because I was too full of emotions-–too many to even put a name to-–to deal with her. I tucked Zac's note into my backpack so that Christin couldn't find it and comment on it and hurried to do my hair and makeup.

If my performance at our last few rehearsals had suffered due to my sudden depression, then this one suffered for a different reason entirely. With my own emotions bubbling to the surface, it was nearly impossible to put myself into Ophelia's mindset. In between scenes, I stood backstage impatiently tapping my toes and fighting the urge to squeal. I hadn't expected Zac's apology at all, and I still felt like I owed him at least a dozen of my own. 

Still, I gave the show as much of myself as I could. When I came onstage at the end to take my bow, the audience's applause made me forget my worries about how awful I might have done. We took two bows and when I raised up after the second one, a wide grin on my face, I saw Zac standing in the front row, clapping and grinning right back at me.

I've never rushed off a stage as fast as I did that night. As soon as I was behind the curtain, I had the dress pulled up to my calves so that I could sprint through the hall to the dressing room. I began pulling the pins from my hair as soon as I was through the door, and as soon as the door opened again I called out for whoever it was to unzip my dress.

“Impatient much?” Cecily asked from behind me.

“Yes!” I replied, too breathless to even explain why, and not really relishing the idea of talking about it with Christin only feet away.

She only laughed, probably figuring out from reading that comic over my shoulder just what was going on in my mind. I hung my costume up as carefully as I could given my trembling hands, and began pulling on my clothes. 

A knock came at the door and all three of us, in various states of undress, stared at each other. We were the only girls in the play, and none of the females in the crew would bother knocking. The door creaked open and Zac's voice rang out. “Toria? Are you in there?”

I rushed to the door, my shirt held up over my chest. “Yes. And so are two other naked women.”

He glanced down at my nearly bare chest and blushed. “Shit, I'm sorry-–I really wasn't trying to see you naked. Not that I don't–-umm. I'll just shut up now.”

“That's probably in your best interests,” I replied, giggling. “I'll be dressed in a second.”

I shut the door before Zac could lodge his foot even more firmly into his mouth, and hurried to finish dressing. I didn't even bother to take time out to wash off my stage makeup. With all my clothes finally back on, I scooped up my backpack and the huge vase of flowers, and rushed toward the door.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Christin asked. From her tone, I could tell she was trying to set me up for another little barb, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. “Ooh, and who are those from?”

“I'm going to spend some time with my boyfriend. You remember him, right? The one who sent the flowers. The one who doesn't want you.”


	29. Love's Fine Wit

I thought Christin's jaw might actually hit the floor, and it took all of my strength not to laugh in her face. That would have been cruel, after all. I scurried out the door before she could collect herself and found myself falling right into Zac's arms. 

“Happy to see me?” He asked, laughing.

I giggled. “Surprisingly, yes. And I'd like to get out of here before Christin tries to kill me.”

Zac raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

“Oh, I wasn't that horrible to her. She made the mistake of asking who bought the flowers,” I replied.

“And you told her...?”

“That they were a present from my wonderful boyfriend,” I said. I couldn't help blushing a little as the last word passed my lips. Even though I had just said it to Christin, it was a different beast entirely to say it to Zac and truly mean it.

“Oh? Who is he?” Zac teased, nudging my shoulder gently. “Is he a good guy? 'Cause you deserve way better than you've had.”

“Maybe I do; maybe I don't,” I said. “But he's definitely a good guy. Even if he can be a twat sometimes.”

His sheepish grin began to spread across his face, his confidence obviously growing. “So you'll take me back?”

“Of course I will!”

Without a word, he scooped me up into his arms and spun me around. I giggled and struggled to hold onto the vase of flowers, even though the water was splashing out all around us. But I didn't even care. All I cared about was being in Zac's arms again. I had forgotten how wonderful it felt--how wonderful it had always felt-–to be held by him. 

The dressing room door opened and brought us back to earth. It was, of course, Christin. She shot us both an evil look, but didn't say a word; the look on her face and the way she stomped down the hall said it all. Once she was out of sight and earshot, Zac and I both cracked up.

He took my face in his hands and tried to steady his own laughter before kissing me. It wasn't forceful, despite the way he held onto me. It was a little possessive, but I didn't mind. After all, I was his again. But he was mine, too. He ended the kiss far sooner than I would have liked, and simply stood there, his forehead pressed to mine.

“We should probably get out of here... after all, you're not even supposed to be back here.”

“Alright, let's hit the road,” Zac said, stepping back and offering me his hand. 

My hand slid into his easily, like the two of them were meant to fit together that way, and we walked on down the hall toward the theatre's lobby. All of our friends were waiting for us, and it seemed that they all glanced down at our entwined hands at the same time. I couldn't help returning their smiles; suddenly, I found myself no longer shy or nervous about this relationship with Zac. Even though we had only barely begun to move past our fight, being with him-–again-–felt more right than anything else ever had.

“You were amazing tonight!” Whitley said. “Not that I had any doubt that you would be.”

“I just wish you were up there with me,” I replied.

“Oh, I will be next semester. Don't you worry about that,” she said.

The way that Evan ran his hand across Whitley's back didn't pass by me unnoticed. He offered her a quick look, then turned back to me and Zac. “So, we're all going out for pizza. Want to join us?”

I glanced up at Zac, who looked down at me with those big puppy dog eyes that no one could deny. “I think we'll just stay in. Bring something back for us?”

“Sure thing,” Evan said, then slyly slipped his hand into Whitley's. “We'll see you guys later. Great job tonight, Toria.”

We said goodbye to everyone else, which took a while, since they all wanted to congratulate me for having a good opening night. Most of the rest of the show's crowd had dissipated, or else we might have been stuck in the lobby forever, making small talk with anyone who recognized me from the stage. Instead, we only had to speak to a few people, and as soon as I found Adrienne and checked out for the night, we were on our way back to the dorm.

The two of us walked across campus in a comfortable silence. Normally, one or both of us would have been trying to fill the silence, but it felt right then to just be together. Neither of us spoke until we reached the dorm and Zac pulled his key card out to open the door.

“So, your room or mine?” I asked, attempting to wiggle my eyebrows suggestively and failing.

“Well, since I splashed half the water out of those flowers, you should probably refill the vase. Sorry about that, by the way,” he replied.

“It's alright,” I replied as I pulled him into the dorm and toward the elevator. “You were excited. You're allowed to make a mess.”

Zac giggled. The elevator opened for us and he yanked on my arm to pull me into it, pushed the button for my floor, then backed me against the wall. “I missed you so much. Let's not do that ever again, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied breathlessly.

He smiled at me, but only briefly, before pressing his lips to mine again. His strong arms held me against the elevator wall, even though we both knew I'd never try to get away from him, especially not when he was kissing me like that. I tugged at his shirt, trying to pull him even closer. Just as he began to nibble on my lip, the elevator stopped on my floor.

Zac pulled back and smiled at me, then took my hand again and practically drug me down the hallway toward my room. I fumbled to pull my keys from my backpack and unlock the door. Zac followed right behind me as I walked into the room and flipped the lights on. He flung himself onto the bed with such ease that it was hard to believe he hadn't been there in days.

“I'll be right back,” I said, tossing my backpack down and holding up the vase. “Just gonna fill this up at the water fountain.”

“Okay, babe.”

I blushed at the way the word rolled of Zac's tongue so easily, and I had to turn away so he wouldn't see. My shyness and reluctance to be with him was gone, but it was all still pretty new. It had been such a whirlwind, I thought to myself as I walked down the hall to the water fountain. It might have been building for a while, below the surface, and bursting out at inopportune times, but it had only been a week since we had finally acknowledged the truth. And then, I had to go and ruin it. Although, the flowers in my hands and the boy on my bed told a different story. I hadn't ruined it at all-–only delayed it a little more.

With a grin that I thought might never leave my face, I walked back to the room with my now fully watered flowers. I pushed open the door and found Zac still sitting on my bed, a book in his hand. He stared at the pages intently, his brow furrowing adorably. I recognized it as the book of Shakespearean sonnets that I had bought him for his birthday. 

“So the crayons aren't the only part of the present you're getting some use out of,” I said, setting the flowers on my desk and then joining him on the bed.

“Nope,” he replied. “I've think I've already read this whole thing like five times.”

“Really?” I asked, scooting closer to him, close enough that our legs were touching. “Which one is your favorite?”

He looked up at me. “I haven't picked one yet. Which one is your favorite?”

I reached across his lap and flipped the pages back until I found just the right one. “It's not my favorite, necessarily, but I think this one is pretty appropriate right now.”

“Read it to me,” he replied.

I took the book from his hands, stared at the page, and cleared my throat. I gave Zac one last small smile before I began to read.

_As an unperfect actor on the stage,_  
Who with his fear is put beside his part,  
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,  
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;  
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say  
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,  
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,  
O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might.  
O! let my looks be then the eloquence  
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,  
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,  
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.  
   O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:  
   To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. 

When I finished, I continued to stare down at the page, unsure what Zac would have to say. His large hand reached out and pushed the book down, forcing me to come face to face with him again. We stared each other again, wordlessly, for a moment, before he broke out into the same crooked smile I knew and loved.

“I think that's a great one,” Zac replied. “But to me, you're a perfect actor.”

I shook my head. “That's the problem. I'm too glad at playing parts, and horrible at playing myself.”

“You know you can be yourself with me, though. Right? You do know that?”

“I guess,” I replied, setting the book in the floor and inching closer to Zac again. “In theory, I know that. But in practice, it's so much easier... no, that's not true. It's not even easy; it's habit. It's just habit to do what I think everyone wants from me and not what I want.”

“You never did what I wanted,” he said.

“Which was?”

Zac ran his hand through my hair. “Be true to yourself. That's all I wanted. I was pretty hopeful that meant you'd be with me, though.”

I shied away from his touch. “I was horrible to you, though. Even before we were together. I don't know why you wanted me at all.”

“Maybe you were,” he replied, nudging my chin up so I was again forced to look at him. “I didn't really notice. Honestly, just being around you, even when we were fighting... it always felt right. You might make me want to rip my hair out sometimes, but when you're gone, it feels even worse. The past few days have been hell, Tor.”

“They've been hell for me, too,” I admitted.

“I could have made it easier on us, though,” he said. “I'm so fucking sorry I blew up at you the way I did.”

“I'm sorry I accused you like that.” I finally allowed myself to relax into his touch, my head lolling to the side a little as he continued to absentmindedly stroke my hair.

He shrugged. “We both fucked up a little. I should have just told you to begin with, but you know I didn't do anything more than make out with her, right? I was angry with you, but I couldn't... I'm not that kind of guy. Drunken hookups at parties aren't really my thing.”

“I know,” I replied. “It was stupid. I realized too late that she was just trying to push my buttons and get between us. But it worked at first, because it played right into my insecurity. After all, I had... well, you were right to call me a hypocrite, and you probably could have called me worse.”

“But I wouldn't have,” Zac said, pulling my face to his and kissing me softly. “I know you were struggling, and I didn't make it easier for you, even though I wanted to. I was a jealous little bastard, though.”

“Were you? I didn't notice,” I said with a grin.

“Absolutely,” he replied, kissing me again. He gently nudged me backward until we were lying down. “But I don't have to be jealous now, do I? You're all mine.”

I couldn't help relaxing against him. It felt like I was finally at home. When I thought back, I'd been at home in his arms practically since I met him, but I hadn't known how to describe that feeling. I just hadn't had the vocabulary for it. It was all so new, the way that Zac made me feel. I smiled. “Absolutely. And you're all mine.”

“I have been all along,” he said.


	30. Frailty, Thy Name Is Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter seems familiar, please go back and read chapter 29 again! I accidentally skipped ahead a chapter and left one out.

Once I was over the hurdle of opening night, life seemed a million times better. Okay, I won't lie. It was mostly getting back together with Zac that had caused that sea change. For once in my life, theatre seemed to completely take a backseat to everything else going on. That wasn't entirely true either, but it certainly did feel that if things with Zac were okay, I could handle whatever troubles the theatre held. 

Friday's performance went by without a hitch, possibly even better than opening night. Saturday would be stressful, though. I had known for several days that Kelsey was throwing a Halloween party and that everyone in the theatre was expected to go. Somehow, the party had gotten so much hype that he was expecting tons of people _outside_ of the theatre to show up, too. Basically, it was going to be the blowout of the semester and not going wasn't an option. Zac and I had only just begun to discuss costume ideas when things had fallen apart. After that, I hadn't had any desire at all to go to the party. But now that we were back together, Zac had insisted.

If I had it my way, I would have stayed in bed as late as possible that Saturday, then taken my sweet time showering and getting dressed for dinner. Under any other circumstances, I'm sure Zac would have chosen to do the same, especially since he had once again spent the night with me. On those mornings (more accurately, afternoons), neither of us was in any hurry to leave the bed. But that particular Saturday, we had a few errands to run to be sure we were ready for the party. 

When I finally returned from my shower, Zac was already sitting on my bed again, a baseball cap slung over his still wet hair. I only blushed a little as he watched me take off my robe and slip into my sloppy weekend clothes--jeans and a very old t-shirt from high school. 

“Where's Justine?” I asked as I ran the towel through my hair. It didn't really matter what I did to it right then, since it was going into curlers practically as soon as I walked through the theatre door. “Wasn't she still asleep?”

“Oh, she stumbled out of bed mumbling something about coffee and charcoal a few minutes ago,” Zac replied. “I think she's working on an art project? I probably should start on mine soon.”

I laughed. I had learned early on how much of a procrastinator Zac was when it came to his art class projects, but I knew it was out of the desire to make sure they were perfect. It was kind of cute, actually, to see how he obviously fretted over the drawings even before he had begun them. And in the end, they were always perfect.

Since it was the weekend, I hurried through my regular makeup routine and was ready to leave the dorm in just a few minutes. We walked out of the building hand in hand and only spent a few minutes arguing over which of us would drive. Ultimately, I won, since we had to go to Aunt Patty's house first and Zac didn't know how to get there. I had only lived with her, if you could call it that, for a few weeks before starting this semester, but I had visited enough times through my life to feel like I had some sort of homing beacon drawing me back there no matter where in Richmond I was.

After a fairly lengthy drive, since she lived on the outskirts of town, I pulled us into the driveway and took a deep breath. I didn't know why I was nervous, though. I hadn't been back to visit her since our very, very short fall break, and one afternoon when I dropped in to pick up some warmer clothes. When I called to tell her about this visit, I hadn't mentioned Zac. I knew she would like him, but I was afraid it would be awkward for all of us if I made a big deal out of bringing my boyfriend over.

Pushing my fears aside, I slapped on a well rehearsed smile and opened my car door. “Well, we're here.”

Zac rushed around to my side of the car, slipping his hand into mine before I could realize what he was doing. He returned my smile with a more sincere, shy one, and we walked up the steps together. I knocked on the door first, but I had my key ready to open the door just in case Aunt Patty wasn't near and didn't hear my knock. 

She did, though, and so did the dogs. Within seconds, loud barking burst out and I giggled at the way Zac visibly flinched. I was more of a cat person, but I had adjusted quickly to Aunt Patty and Uncle Mo's dogs, Charlie and Bridget. They could be a handful, but they were the friendliest dogs ever. The look on Zac's face told me that he wasn't convinced yet, though. I opened my mouth to reassure him, but was cut off by the sound of the door being unlocked.

“Victoria! I thought that was you,” Aunt Patty said, opening the door just a few inches. “Hold on, let me get the dogs under control and you can come in.”

Zac shot me a frightened look as Aunt Patty closed the door again and the sound of scraping paws and plaintive barks could be heard. I laughed. “Don't worry. They're sweethearts, but they're big, and they really, really like new people.”

He didn't look reassured, but he didn't say a word. When the door swung open again, Aunt Patty had two heavy duty leashes securely in hand, and was standing firmly in front of the two overgrown puppies. Charlie managed to break loose just enough to sniff at Zac curiously, and I could see Zac's fear melting away quickly. 

“You didn't tell me you were bringing a friend with you,” Aunt Patty said, leaning on the word friend, making it obvious that she could see he was more than just that.

Zac raised up from where he had bent down to pet Charlie's head, and reached his hand out to her. “Sorry, ma'am. I'm Zac.”

“I see,” she replied, smirking a little. “Well, it's nice to meet you, Zac. You're a student at VCU, too?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, and I had to smirk too at how polite he was being. “I'm a freshman, too. Toria and I have a couple classes together, and...”

He glanced at me for reassurance, or to hand over the reins. I wasn't quite sure which, but I decided to go with the latter. I took his hand again, then looked back at my aunt. “We've been dating for a while.”

Aunt Patty gave the two of us a huge smile, then. I could see she already liked Zac, thanks to the manners he had apparently found somewhere on the drive over. She tugged the dogs toward the basement, pushing them behind the gate and locking it. “Now, why don't I get you something to eat or drink while Toria looks for her costume? I'm sure she knows better than I do where it is.”

“That would be great; thank you,” Zac replied, giving my hand a slight squeeze before following Aunt Patty to the kitchen.

I couldn't help smiling as I watched the two of them walk off together. My family was the quintessential Southern family, so I knew Zac was already making a good impression, despite his Northern accent. And I knew that Aunt Patty would have him completely stuffed full of her home cooking before I had even come close to finding the costume. Dreading that search, I scurried up the stairs toward the attic bedroom where I had spent most of the summer.

It felt like my belongings were scattered all across the state. I still officially lived with my dad, but mom had wanted me to stay with her in those few weeks right after the divorce before I started college. I'm not sure what that accomplished, other than giving me quite a workout moving lots of my things into my cousin's old bedroom. Mom had insisted that most of my scripts, trophies and other sentimental things like that be moved here, and so I knew my Dorothy costume from high school had to be in one of the boxes stacked up in the closet.

As I dug through the boxes, I thought about Zac downstairs with Aunt Patty. I knew he was in good hands, but I also knew that she and Uncle Mo, if he was around, would no doubt be grilling him about our relationship. I hoped that didn't put him in too much of an awkward position. Somehow, I had a feeling he could handle it better than I could.

I knew there had been a little hesitance in my voice when I had told her that Zac was my boyfriend. I hoped he hadn't noticed. It wasn't because I was ashamed of him, though. I was the youngest of all my cousins, the baby of the family, and it seemed every time the family got together, far too much attention was paid to my love life-–or lack thereof. I had been so devoted to the theatre in high school that I didn't have much time to figure out relationships. The few I had found myself in fizzled out quickly, mostly due to my disinterest. Only one had had much lasting power, going strong for almost a year, and even it had died a quick death when he left for college. 

I would have to try to explain all of that to Zac later, I decided. Maybe he would understand, finally, why I was such a horrible girlfriend. I was trying, though. I hoped he could see that, despite my awkwardness.

To my surprise, the box of costumes was located fairly near the top of all the stacks of boxes. The costumes were a mixture of homemade dresses for various plays and Halloween costumes dating back to elementary school. Since I couldn't actually sing, the Dorothy costume was the latter. I had worn it for a little skit in a talent show that, thankfully, didn't require singing and then recycled it for my Halloween costume during my junior year. After checked the bag to make sure that all the pieces-–gingham jumper, crinoline, white shirt, lacy socks and ruby slippers-–were all in place, I cleaned up my mess and hurried back downstairs.

As I made my way down the last few steps and rounded the corner into the kitchen, I heard Zac's trademark giggle. It made me a little nervous-–I had no doubt Aunt Patty was telling him some horribly embarrassing story from my childhood-–but I was glad they were getting along. 

“What's so funny?” I asked, seeing the two of them huddled together at the table. As I slid onto the bench next to Zac, I could see that they were looking at a photo album. “Oh dear...”

“Oh, nothing,” Zac replied, faking an innocent look that I didn't buy at all. 

“Just showing this boy what he's gotten himself into,” Aunt Patty replied.

I glanced at the photos, and saw that she had chosen a set of me dressed as a little director. I was barely five years old and had just begun participating in a childrens theatre program. Obviously, I enjoyed it-–and obviously, my need for control had started early in life. I felt myself blushing slightly. “I think he already knows.”

“I do,” Zac replied. “And I wouldn't have her any other way.”

That only served to deepen my blush, and I don't think it went away fully until I had finally peeled Zac away from the photo album, said goodbye to Aunt Patty, and walked out the door. I was so incredibly glad that Zac had made himself at home so easily with my family-–although, he seemed to make himself at home absolutely anywhere he went-–but it was definitely a bit embarrassing. I was even more glad, though, that I was the only one of us embarrassed by it.

Once we finally left Aunt Patty's, we hurried out to the nearest mall, which I knew had a huge Halloween store. I could only hope that, on such short notice, we would still be able to find the perfect costume for Zac. Sure enough, they had it--the costume might have just been a generic lion, but combined with my Dorothy outfit, it would be absolutely perfect.

After our mall trip, which took far less time than I was expecting, I drove us to my favorite restaurant in Richmond, Friendly's. When Zac said he had never eaten at one before, I knew that was exactly where we had to go. I had spent a lot of time at the one not too far from my aunt's house over that summer; it had always been my favorite thing about visiting her.

We settled into a booth by the window and placed our orders. I had to laugh at the way Zac's eyes lit up when the waitress placed his bacon cheeseburger in front of him. I was just as excited about my tuna melt, though. We ate in silence for a while, both of us enjoying such a greasy indulgence that was, if possible, even less healthy than the cafeteria food we ate every day. 

Finally, I sat my sandwich down and decided to break the silence. “You know, we don't have to go to this party...”

“We already bought my costume,” Zac pointed out, popping a waffle fry into his mouth. “Besides, I want to go. If we're together, maybe we'll actually have fun at this one.”

“Maybe...” I replied, not totally convinced. I stared down at my food, twirling a fry in the ketchup but not taking a bite of it.

Zac snaked his hand under the table and squeezed my knee, causing me to jump a little. He giggled. “Sorry. But, umm, we don't have to go if you don't want to. Okay?”

“No, I want to go,” I replied, shaking my head. “I really do. If you're there, if we're together, then that's all that matters. It'll be fun.”

My voice sounded more confident than I felt, though. But I was beginning to believe that Zac and I were good together. If we could handle my stupidity, then surely we could handle one little party.


	31. Be Cruel, Only To Be Kind

That night in the theatre, it was easy to tell that everyone's mind was elsewhere. Most of us were planning to attend Kelsey's party, and more than a few actors arrived with Halloween costumes in hand, not wanting to waste a second of time between curtain call and party. I wasn't quite as anxious, but the enthusiasm in the building was kind of infectious. By the end of the second act, I could feel myself growing more and more excited-–although I may have been mostly looking forward to seeing Zac again.

As soon as the house lights came up and we took our bow, you could feel the entire cast snapping back to reality. We all rushed from the stage and to the dressing rooms. As soon as I passed through the door, I grabbed my purse and pulled out my cell phone, sending Zac a quick text to let him know I would be back in the dorm in a few minutes.

Once I got Zac's reply, letting me know that he was already in my room getting into costume, I rushed to take off my Ophelia costume. I felt a little guilty about that, because I knew I would be in serious trouble if I ripped it, but luckily I didn't. With my costume hanging securely on its hanger again, I turned to the mirror and began pulling my fancy hairdo down. Luckily, I didn't need to do much to my hair and makeup to transition from Ophelia to Dorothy-–just put those curls into pigtails and slap on some red lipstick. I could do both of those things easily in the dressing room.

“Victoria, are you going to Kelsey's party?” Cecily asked. 

“That's the plan,” I replied, cautiously glancing at her reflection in the makeup mirror. Christin stood behind her, still changing out of her costume. I thought I saw her shoulders tense, but I couldn't be certain.

“Is your boyfriend-–what's his name?–-going, too?”

I winced. I knew Cecily didn't mean any harm. She couldn't know what was going on. I nodded slightly. “Yeah, he's getting into his costume right now. I should probably go check on him.”

Like the coward I was, I scooped up my makeup, dumped it into my purse and hurried out of the dressing room before anything else could be said. I scurried out of the theatre building as quickly as I could, even bypassing the few audience members who were still lingering in the lobby. I passed dozens of other students in costume as I made my way across campus to Johnson, where I knew Zac was waiting in my room.

Just as I expected, I swung open the door to my room and found Zac sitting in Justine's desk chair, already wearing the furry bodysuit part of his costume. The wig that came with the costume wasn't very pretty, so we decided just to fluff up his own hair, playing up the fact that, while it was short, it had a certain lion mane quality already. Justine was already dressed in her costume-–Strawberry Shortcake-–and was poised in front of Zac with a makeup palette.

I had to giggle at the nervous look Zac shot me when I walked in. “Putting your face on?”

“Something like that,” he mumbled, trying not to scrunch up his face as Justine began dabbing on reddish brown makeup to match his costume.

As much as I wanted to just stand and watch that, I knew the party had already started and I wasn't even in my costume yet. I turned away to retrieve it from the closet, slipping into the shirt and jumper quickly. My mom had made the costume, in addition to Justine's, so they were far higher quality than what I expected most other girls at the party to be wearing. Then again, it was a theatre party, so I was also certain we wouldn't be the only people pulling out all the stops. I slipped my feet into the socks and slippers, then turned back to Zac and Justine to see how they were progressing.

“How bad do I look?” Zac asked, frowning.

“You look adorable,” I replied, holding my arm out to him. “Come on. Let's go see the wizard. Or get drunk. Whichever.”

Zac and Justine locked arms with me and we set off across campus. There were dozens of other students in costume still milling around, heading off to one party or another. It certainly seemed most of them were walking in the same general direction as we were, though. That made me a little nervous, but I knew I was going to have not only Zac, but all of my friends, with me. The party would be just fine.

Sure enough, the front lawn and porch of Kelsey's house were teeming with people in costumes. I thought I recognized a few faces, but it was difficult to say. Everyone else had definitely gone all out with the costumes-–there were scary ones, innovative ones, artistic ones and everything in between. Zac, Justine and I wiggled our way through the crowd and into the house, where the crowd was, if possible, even thicker.

“Toria! Justine!” A female voice called out, and after looking around, I matched it to Whitley.

She, Evan, Taylor and Joseph had managed to find a comfy spot on the couch-–well, and the floor in front of the couch. We squeezed our way through the crowd to reach them. Justine wiggled onto the couch with Whitley and Evan, while Zac and I cuddled in the floor next to the other happy couple. The four of them were all dressed as zombies; it didn't seem overly creative at first, but the makeup was exceptional. They had even managed to cover Whitley's brace with papier-mache rotting flesh. 

“Here, drink up,” Taylor said, passing Zac a huge convenience store soda cup.

Zac raised an eyebrow, but did as Taylor said. I could tell by the way he squirmed that the cup most definitely did not contain only soda. With an apologetic smirk, Zac handed the cup to me and I took a swig as well. There was a tangy, banana aftertaste to it, but it wasn't unpleasant. Leave it to Taylor to bring a stealthily fruity drink.

The seven of us sat there for a long time passing the giant cup of soda and magic banana whatever back and forth for ages, hardly even speaking. The party raged on around us, but we were in our own little bubble and it was wonderful. It wasn't just the alcohol; it was the company. We were the perfect little group, for all our weirdness and awkwardness. For once, I had a group. I had friends. And not just friends-–I had Zac, too. The word boyfriend was hardly even adequate to describe how wonderful he was, I decided.

“Aww, man,” Zac said, pouting as he lifted the lid of the cup. “We're out.”

Taylor chuckled. “We had another one on the way over here. But I'm sure you guys can find something in the kitchen if you want another drink...”

Zac glanced at me and I nodded. My head was a little warm and fuzzy, but I knew I was hardly even tipsy. Another drink sounded wonderful, although I doubted we would find anything that lived up to Taylor's, apparently, great mixing skills. 

Hand in hand, Zac and I made our way into the kitchen. I couldn't help briefly flashing back to the last time we were together in that room. It made me a little ill, but I tried not to let that show. Things were different now. Now we were together and I was mixing up two rum and cokes for us while Zac brushed against my side none to subtly. I definitely didn't mind at all, although I would have preferred to get a room before things got any more touchy feely. I turned to hand him his drink and tell him exactly that, but I didn't have time to get the words out.

“Well, look who's here.”

I knew even before I saw her face exactly who those words had come from. Christin. And even though I didn't want to, I spun around and faced her head on, my grip on my drink as tight as it could possibly be without spilling it everywhere. “Yes, I believe you were in the dressing room when I said I was coming to the party.”

“Sorry, wasn't listening,” she said with a fake smile and a ridiculously exaggerated toss of her hair. She was dressed as a... well, I wasn't really sure. A slutty something. Maybe just a slut. “And I definitely didn't hear that you were bringing _him_.”

I gaped and Zac nearly spit out the sip of his drink he had taken-–probably to keep himself from saying anything to Christin. He swallowed it down and looked nervously at me, clearly hoping I would make the next move. I gulped down a quick and large amount of my drink, hoping to give myself some fast moving liquid courage before I finally spoke. “Well, I definitely did say I was bringing him. And I'm pretty sure I said he was my boyfriend, too.”

“I thought you finally wised up and dumped him?” She asked, and I could tell by the glassy look in her eyes that she was not remotely sober. The way she was closing in on Zac, practically circling him like a predator about to devour their prey, kind of hinted at it, too. “Or did you wise up and dump her?”

Somehow, over the few months I had known him, I had developed this sixth sense where Zac was concerned. He was normally a calm, easy going guy, but when he got angry, it was just this side of terrifying. And I could sense it coming. When he downed the rest of his drink and tossed the cup over his shoulder, I knew. And when he shot me a quick look before turning to face Christin, I instinctively backed away, not wanting to be collateral damage.

“Actually, we both wised up,” Zac said, drawing sarcastic little quotation marks around the last two words. “We wised up and realized that letting someone like you break us up was the stupidest thing we could possibly do. So yes, I am her boyfriend. And I am not _anything_ to you. Never was, never will be.”

Christin's confidence seemed to falter, but only for a second before she stepped in even closer to Zac. She didn't seem to notice the way he flinched and snarled at the closeness. “Oh, but I was something to you once, wasn't I? You can't deny that.”

“Oh, you were _something_ once, and only once,” Zac replied. “You were the girl I kissed when I was drunk as hell, angry and stupid. I would have made out with any girl who threw herself at me, but it just happened to be you. And I wasn't dating Toria then, so how fucking _dare_ you insinuate that I would cheat on her. Next time, try your little games on someone who's actually as stupid as you seem to think we are and maybe you'll have a little more luck. But sorry. You're nothing to me now, and Toria is everything.”

I could see Christin actually crumbling in front of us. I wondered if anyone had ever dared to stand up to her before and tell her that she couldn't have everything she wanted. From the way she was trembling and seemingly on the verge of tears, I had to assume this was a first. But she was still an actress. In seconds, she had pulled herself together, stood up to her full height and plastered on a blank look that betrayed no emotions at all. With a tiny little squeak, the sound just barely giving away that she felt anything at all, she turned on her heel and walked away from us.

Once she was out of sight, Zac seemed to shrink back down to his normal, unassuming self. It was funny to watch, in a way. He turned to face me and I could see from the apprehension on his face that he was waiting for my judgment. I gave an exaggerated sigh and smiled at him. “My hero.”

“Yeah?” He asked, wrinkling up his nose-–which was even an more adorable move than usual with the black nose and whiskers drawn on.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around him. “Absolutely. I don't know why, but I just can't deal with her. So thank you.”

He leaned down and kissed me, and I couldn't resist the urge to keep my eyes open. He just looked too adorable in that costume, with his face painted like a little lion. Not a cowardly one, though; that might have been the costume, but my Zac was not cowardly at all. And he was _my_ Zac. Staring up at him in that kitchen, even a little tipsy, I knew I wasn't going to doubt again how I felt about him.


	32. In Apprehension How Like A God

The Halloween party was a turning point. My cowardly lion stood up for us and our relationship and it only made me appreciate him more. Not only that, but it seemed to make Christin back off. That surprised me, because she seemed far too stubborn to give up that easily, but I certainly wasn't going to complain.

The rest of that night passed by without incident, the seven of us spending most of it sitting on the couch ignoring everyone else around us. We were in our own little world and it was perfect. That sense of bliss carried over into the following week; we ate lunch together, hung out in the coffee shop together, and were just generally inseparable. Everything was wonderful. 

But something always has to come along and interrupt things that are wonderful.

On Wednesday afternoon, Zac and I were sitting in the coffee shop after class as we nearly always did. Taylor was regaling us with a ridiculous story from his heavy partying days his freshman year while we sipped on lattes. Well, I sipped on a latte; Zac was more of a soda drinker. We were both in stitches from Tay's story, so we almost didn't hear Cecily's approach.

“Hey, Victoria?” 

I spun around on my stool to face her. Although I recognized her voice, we didn't really see each other outside of the theatre, so I was a little surprised and worried about what she might possibly want. “Yeah?”

She gave Zac a small smile, then looked back at me. “I don't know if you've heard, but I always have a little cast party at my parents' cabin out by Swift Creek Reservoir. It's too cold to swim or anything, but the cabin-–actually, cabins–-are really nice and everyone always has a good time. Much more relaxed than Kelsey's parties.”

I didn't have to ask what she meant by more relaxed. Despite not being that close, Cecily was certainly still aware of everything that had happened between me and Donovan; I still recalled that tipsy conversation I had with her at the first party where she tried to warn me away from him. A more relaxed party than that one sounded absolutely perfect to me. 

Of course, it wasn't entirely up to me. I wouldn't let Zac tell me I couldn't go, but if he didn't want to go with me, I would have had to seriously reconsider telling Cecily I would go. That makes me sound horribly codependent, but I don't really see it that way. Even though I am a theatre kid, my best friends weren't necessarily all theatre people. I wouldn't have fun at a party with only them. So if Zac didn't go, the party lost a lot of its appeal.

Cecily seemed to guess what was causing my reluctance. She offered the two of us another smile and said, “Of course, you can bring anyone you want. It's going to be a small group, but boyfriends are definitely welcome.”

“A small group, huh?” I asked.

She nodded knowingly. “Some of the more... dramatic, shall we say, cast members won't be there. Kelsey's hosting a party as well.”

Cecily didn't need to spell it out. I understood perfectly. Zac did too, because he rubbed my back gently and said, “Well, I think it sounds like fun. If Toria wants to go, then I'll be there, too.”

I nodded at Zac, then looked back at Cecily. “Sure. We'll be there.”

“Great,” she replied. “I'll give you the directions when I see you at the theatre, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

With another smile, Cecily turned away from us and rattled off an order to Taylor. I leaned further into Zac's touch and gave him as smile as well. He kissed the top my head then gave me a serious look. “You did want to go to the party, right? I didn't mean to just accept the invitation for both of us.”

I shook my head. “No. I mean, yes, I did want to go. It sounds like we won't have to deal with... certain people. So it will be fun.”

“Good,” Zac replied. “I like parties that are fun.”

“Those are generally the best kind.”

Minutes later, Cecily's drink made and paid for, Taylor returned to lean against the counter next to us. He was lucky if he ever got to take a real break, but there were enough people working that afternoon that he did occasionally have a moment free to spend with us. He wiped a stray drop of whipped cream off his shirt sleeve, then glanced up at me. “So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving? I know it's still a few weeks away, but we get a pretty long break.”

I honestly hadn't thought about it at all. I supposed I had a few options, and none of them sounded that pleasant. I could finally give in and meet my mother's boyfriend, despite the fact that I hadn't even spoken to her in weeks. I could spend a very awkward weekend with my dad and the cat, most likely eating frozen dinners the entire time. Or I could spend the weekend with Aunt Patty. That was the most likely option, I figured. 

Realizing that Taylor and Zac were both staring at me, waiting for an answer, I finally offered them both a shrug. “I don't know. Hadn't really thought about it. My family is kinda... scattered around the state.”

Zac nudged his stool closer to mine and wrapped his arm more tightly around me. “Have you even talked to any of them about the holiday yet?”

I shook my head. 

He glanced up at Taylor for a second and they shared some weird, secret look that I didn't understand. When Taylor nodded slightly, Zac turned back to me. “Why don't you come home with me?”

“Better question. Why should I?”

“Because... you're my girlfriend and I want you there?”

Well, he had me there. I couldn't very well argue with that, but I didn't totally agree with it either. It was one thing for us to spend every waking, and most sleeping, moment together here. It was another thing entirely for me to go home with him and meet his entire family. But I didn't know how to put any of that into words without seriously hurting his feelings. So instead, I grasped at straws. “Where will I sleep?”

“In my room,” Zac replied immediately, and I had a feeling my eyes went just as wide as Taylor's. Zac quickly added, “Well, actually, it still has the twin beds. So Tay can move back in there with me and you can have Ike's old room. He and Melissa live close enough that they won't stay the night.”

“You've thought about this before, haven't you?”

Zac shook his head. “Nope. But the plan came together pretty nicely, didn't it?”

“I guess so,” I replied softly. 

And it did seem like a good plan, but the thought of meeting his family-–the ones I hadn't already met-–scared me. I suddenly felt really sorry for him having to met my aunt and her dogs the past weekend. He had seemed a nervous wreck that day, and I had a feeling it wasn't just the gigantic dogs to blame for that. Maybe I deserved a taste of that, too, as payback. But an hour or so versus an entire weekend? Didn't seem entirely fair.

But it wasn't about being fair, was it? It was my boyfriend trying to do me a really big favor because he knew how awkward and potentially miserable my Thanksgiving break could be. After all, Zac had somehow always been the one who showed up when I was at my lowest because of my stupid parental drama. He had comforted me, literally rocking me to sleep on one occasion, and helped me to believe that things would be okay. It was in those moments together, I think, that I really began to fall for him.

What wasn't fair was my immediate gut reaction to his invitation when he obviously meant well. I didn't want to absolutely say yes right then, but I did want to at least let him know that I appreciated the offer. That was the least I could do. He deserved that much.

I gave Zac as sweet and sincere of a smile as I could manage. “I'll think about it, okay? I've got to talk to my aunt... and I guess my mom and dad too...”

Zac nodded. “It's been a while since you've talked to any of them, hasn't it? Besides your aunt.”

“Yeah,” I replied, grateful that Taylor seemed to have gotten the hint and wandered off to actually do his job. “Maybe we can go see Aunt Patty again, and I'll talk to her about it all. Then I'll figure out what I'm going to do for the holiday.”

Zac gave me a small grin. “Sounds like a good plan. As long as the dogs don't try to eat me again.”

“Who said you were going with me, mister?”

He pouted. “Well, I mean, your aunt really seemed to like me. Will you let me go if I promise not to look at any more baby pictures of you? Tempting thought it may be...”

I nudged him gently, but I wasn't really upset at all. I was glad Aunt Patty liked him; I really was. He looked so at home in her house, at least once the dogs were out of sight. Of course I had imagined him going back there with me to visit again, even if I hadn't vocalized it. I grinned at him. “Yeah, okay. No baby pictures or I will sick the dogs on you.”

“It's a deal.”

I turned back to my drink, which had gone cold during our conversation but I didn't really mind. All of my enthusiasm for the cast party had vanished as well. Of course Taylor hadn't known that would happen when he asked a seemingly innocent question, so I wasn't angry with him. I was just frustrated with my circumstances and the fact that, even when things with Zac were going so well, other things could still go wrong and ruin my entire day. But that was just life, right?

Zac sensed my mood, I guess, because he continued to rub my back gently. He didn't speak for several minutes, though. Instead, he left my alone with my thoughts. It was probably a smart move on his part, because I feared if I started to talk again, I might just burst out crying. Finally, my lukewarm latte gone, I turned back to him and tried to change the subject. “So, are you sure you want to go to the cast party?”

“Whatever you want to do,” he replied. “That's not a cop out. I'd like to go to a nice party, but I'm just saying, I want to go only if you do. And I don't want to go if you don't. Whichever one makes you happy.”

I nodded. “I think I do want to go. A nice, less stressful party sounds fantastic.”

“Definitely,” he replied. “And speaking of no stress... don't worry about Thanksgiving either, okay? Just do what you want to do. But the offer is still open.”

I remembered a time when I felt like I was suffocating under all the expectations Zac seemed to have for me. I don't know whether he changed, or I did, or we both did, but this felt completely different. Maybe he hadn't ever really forced me to do anything but admit what I wanted and then go for it. And I didn't really mind being forced to do that, I realized.

“I'll think about it, okay?” I said, and I meant it. I would think about spending Thanksgiving... with my boyfriend. I had to admit, it was starting to sound pretty nice.


	33. Exit, Pursued By A Bear

As promised, Cecily slipped me a piece of paper with directions to the cabin before we went onstage that Saturday night. It seemed pretty simple, even though I hadn't been to Swift Creek for years. Zac had never been, and Cecily warned that it was a rough drive, so we decided to take my Jeep. I parked my car in the student lot near the theatre so that we would be ready to hit the road as soon as the show ended. 

Closing nights were always bittersweet. Even if the show had a terrible run, watching it end always brought up tons of feelings about what you could have done differently. If the show had a terrific run, then of course you wanted it to go on forever. And a show like this, that was both good and bad? Well, they redefined the word bittersweet. 

Donovan and I hadn't even spoken a word to each other offstage during the entire run of the show. I liked it that way. Somehow, our chemistry onstage was only improved by our lack of chemistry off. I certainly wouldn't miss acting with him-–or a few others in the cast-–but I couldn't deny he had talent.

When we had a moment by ourselves in the dressing room, Cecily assured me that Donovan was going to Kelsey's party, not hers. Her party, which her older sister was currently setting up for, would be as stress-free as possible for the small group of actors going to it. I couldn't wait.

Once the curtain had fallen for the last time, I rushed offstage and shimmied out of my costume as quickly as I could. Cecily told me there was no need to be in any rush, since she herself couldn't leave yet, but I couldn't help being excited. 

With my costume hung up for the last time, I gathered up my belongings, wiped off the majority of my stage makeup, and scurried out to the lobby. Zac was waiting around the first corner with a huge smile on his face. He scooped me up into his arms. “Great show, lady!”

“Thanks,” I replied, catching my breath when he finally sat me down. “Ready to go party?”

“Always.”

It took us several minutes, though, to make our way through the crowd. Since it was closing night, we had a sell out crowd and dozens of them were still hanging around to congratulate us actors on a great run. It felt like we might never make our way to the theatre doors, but eventually we did.

Cecily wasn't kidding when she said it was a rough drive out to her family's cabin. Each turn we took led us down a smaller road than the last, until finally we found ourselves on a twisting and turning little dirt and gravel road. Her directions told us to continue on that road until we reached the cabin, and so we did.

What Cecily failed to mention was that it wasn't just one cabin; her family had a veritable retreat on their hands. At the top of a little hill, just above the lake, sat a series of little cabins. As we approached them, Zac pointed out a basketball court, tennis court and even a little shooting range down the embankment toward the lake. The first cabin, which appeared to be the largest, already had several cars parked out front, so I pulled my Jeep off into the grass in front of it as well.

Even though it was the largest cabin, it was by no means large. The first floor was one wide open room with a small but fairly modern kitchen and several comfy looking couches. A round kitchen table sat in the middle of it, covered in bottles of liquor, cake and potato chips. The grand tour Cecily gave us revealed little more than two bedrooms upstairs, one of which boasted a large projector screen that a few of the boys in the cast were using to play video games.

It wasn't a big cabin, or a big party, but that was perfectly fine by me and Zac.

Zac, naturally, headed straight for the food, fixing a huge plate of cake and chips that he insisted on sharing with me. I didn't really feel all that hungry, but something about finishing a show and finally being able to breath again gave me an insatiable appetite. It wasn't long before that appetite turned to thirst as well, and I mixed up two fruity rum drinks for the two of us. 

We didn't really do a lot of socializing at the party. I introduced Zac to the actors he hadn't met yet, but there was no pressing need to get outside of our comfort zones. I think everyone was too tired from the show to really do more than sit around and enjoy their drinks. Zac and I cuddled up into one oversized chair and just enjoyed each others' company all the way through our first two drinks of the night.

By the time I went back to make our third drinks, Cecily had pulled out the game Apples to Apples and gotten a few people-–Zac included-–to start a game. I settled in beside him with our drinks, but declined the offer to be dealt in. It was plenty of fun just to watch the ridiculous words Zac threw into the pile; I found that each time, I could guess his choices without having even looked at his hand.

Cecily wandered off to continue her hostessing duties after the game got under way. I had to admit, I really liked her, even though we hadn't spoken all that much. She just seemed to have so much poise and grace, and I could tell that wasn't an act. That was just who she was. I wanted to be more like her, and not turn into a blubbering mess or a crumbling fool at the first sign of trouble.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

So much for poise and grace, I thought, realizing the screeching voice that had cast a hush over the entire party was in fact Cecily's. All eyes turned toward the open door where she stood. Cold air blew in and made me shiver-–as did the sight in front of me.

Donovan and Christin. Together.

The cabin's outside light illuminated the snow flurries falling around them-–and the fact that they were nuzzled up to each others' side. Somehow, I didn't think that was just to keep out the cold.

“Thought we'd come check out the party,” Donovan said, slurring slightly.

“It's snowing!” Cecily screeched. “You could have wrecked. And you're obviously not sober. Honestly, what were you thinking?”

Christin cast a quick look past Cecily, staring right at me and Zac. I knew exactly what she was thinking; she wanted to show me that she'd bagged Donovan. Did she expect me to care? Honestly, I thought the two of the would make a perfect couple. She would probably give him far more to be jealous and overprotective of than I ever did, and he was undeniably the sort of popular arm candy she would love to be seen with. I almost wanted to congratulate the two of them.

Whatever reply Donovan gave her was in a lower tone, so I couldn't quite make it out. Something about the other party being a bust, I thought. Cecily cast a glance back at the rest of the room, then pulled herself back together and said, “Since it's snowing, I'm not going to turn you guys away. Maura opened up the other cabins earlier, so you guys can stay in one of those, alright? I don't think either of you need to do any more partying tonight.”

That must have sounded agreeable to them, because soon they were gone and the door was shut on the cold again. The whole room seemed to let out a sigh of relief. After a beat, everyone who had been quiet through that entire exchange began to speak again. The game of Apples to Apples resumed, but I had lost my interest in watching it. I settled back into the chair and pulled my knees up to my chin, lost in my own thoughts.

Zac's quirky sense of humor won him the first round easily, and David was just beginning to deal the cards again when Zac leaned back to look at me. He took one quick look at me and glanced back at David, telling him that he'd rather sit out this round.

“Are you sure?” I asked him. “You looked like you were having fun.”

“Yeah, and you look like you aren't.”

I shrugged. “I'm fine.”

Zac wrapped his arms around me and lowered his voice. “Is it Donovan?”

“No, not really,” I replied. “I'm glad to get the two of them out of my hair. I think it's just post-show depression. Alcohol usually helps, but apparently not tonight.”

“You promise you're not upset about them, though?” Zac asked, his brow furrowing adorably with concern.

“I promise.”

Cecily wandered over and cleared her throat to attract everyone's attention. “Hey guys, it's really starting to come down out there. The other cabins are open, but there's not really room for everyone. So anyone who doesn't want to spend the night should probably head back to campus now before we're all snowed in. There's two bedrooms in here, but the other three cabins are just one bedroom each.”

I glanced over at Zac. He offered me a small shrug, obviously leaving the decision up to me. I knew that our laundry was still in my car from earlier than week when I had taken it to Taylor's apartment to do, so if we wanted to stay, we had pajamas. Still, I felt like we were imposing. But I didn't want to make the drive back to campus in the snow. Sensing my hesitation, Zac finally said, “I think we're going to stay, if that's alright.”

“Of course,” Cecily replied. “Come on, I'll get you the key.”

Zac stood up first, then offered me a hand. We followed Cecily to the door, where a large key rack hung with several numbered key rings dangling from it. She pulled down one with the number “2” and handed it to me. 

Leaning in close, she said in a stage whisper, “Don't worry about any... mess you guys might make. It's cool. And I'm sorry about those two earlier.”

I had to stare at her for a second before realizing what she meant about a mess. It made me blush, and I wanted to ask if she really meant it, but I could tell by her tone that she really didn't care what Zac and I did behind the closed cabin doors. It was strange, but not unappreciated, as was her apology for Donovan and Christin.

Zac chuckled as he nudged me toward the door. I grabbed my coat from the pile by the door, handing Zac his as well. My car keys were stuffed in the pocket and I fished them out to unlock my car and grab our pajamas. Zac walked close behind me, rubbing my shoulders protectively. I had to admit, I appreciated it; the snow really was coming down and it was positively freezing outside.

I dug around in the two laundry baskets in my back seat, finally finding t-shirts and pajama pants for both of us. I had a feeling we were both going to be very cold that night, but there wasn't much we could do about it. Except for one thing...

Zac gave me a grin as he walked us toward the second cabin. “So, what do you think about what Cecily said?”

“Which part?” I asked, feigning innocence as I stuck the cabin key in the door, then shoved the door open.

It was basically identical to the first cabin, but on a smaller scale. I could see through the slatted floors that the upstairs was just one big open space with a bed. At least the heat was on, but I was certain the second floor wouldn't be as warm and toasty as the first. I scurried up the stairs without waiting for Zac to reply to my question.

“You know what I mean!” He said, the warmth of his body letting me know that he was close behind me. 

I tossed our pajamas onto the bed, then spun around to face him. “You really want to do it here? In someone else's cabin?”

He shrugged out of his coat, and kicked off his snow covered shoes. “Why not? She said we could. Seems a shame not to take advantage of that kind of offer.”

I chuckled, but didn't answer him. Instead, I kicked my shoes off as well and walked toward the large bed that took up most of the room. I took off my coat and let it fall into the floor, where it was soon joined by my damp jeans, small clumps of snow clinging to their hem. While my hands were busy pulling my shirt over my head, Zac sneaked up behind me and grabbed my waist. He had already taken off his own shirt, and his hot flesh pressed against my back kept me from shivering at how cold the room was.

He didn't try to turn me around. Instead, he just kissed my neck and unhooked my bra. He nudged me forward a little and I took the hint, falling onto the bed and rolling over to face him as I shrugged my bra off. I quickly pulled the covers up over my body, not out of shame but just for the warmth. Zac grinned down at me as he quickly removed his pants and underwear. Before tossing his pants aside, he pulled out his wallet and grabbed something-–I didn't have to guess what-–from the inside pocket of it. With another grin, he jumped onto the bed and ducked under the covers as well.

“Brr,” he said, giving an exaggerated shiver.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around him to try to pull some of his warmth into my body. “I know. It's freezing in here.”

“Well, you know,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows. “Body heat is the best kind of heat.”

I rolled my eyes at his cheesy words, but the way he looked at me made a different kind of chill run through my body. I let him pull me closer, pressing his lips to mine, and tried not to think about the fact that we were in someone else's bed.


	34. Such Perilous Circumstance

It felt so strange to be done with the play. Even though I still had classes in the theatre building for the rest of the semester, I was still overcome with this weird sense of freedom. My evenings were mine again. I could do whatever I wanted, which mostly meant that I spent even more of my waking hours with Zac. He certainly wasn't complaining, though.

I hadn't quite worked up the nerve to call either of my parents and see what their plans for Thanksgiving were. Instead, I called Aunt Patty and asked if me and Zac could come over for dinner at some point during the week, since I had my evenings free again. That way, I figured I could ask her about Thanksgiving first, and if she said I was welcome, I wouldn't have to feel bad about telling Mom or Dad that I already plans. It wasn't the most well thought out plan I'd ever had, but it seemed like the best way to go.

This time, Zac was far less nervous on the drive to her house, although he did still express concern that the dogs would try to eat him. But mostly, I could see that he was happy to spend time with my family. I liked that. My last boyfriend in high school had never wanted to see my family; maybe it was just because he knew the divorce was looming, but it still hurt my feelings that he would never come to my house. I liked that Zac was so eager to befriend what little bit of my family he had met.

We pulled into the driveway at her house right around dinner time, and there was a strange silence after I knocked on the door. Seconds later, Aunt Patty swung it open, a big smile on her face. 

“I already put the dogs in the basement,” she explained, obviously noticing our confusion. “Mo is just finishing up dinner, so come on in.”

I followed Patty inside, Zac trailing behind me with his hand securely in mine. Just as Aunt Patty said, Mo was standing over the stove, stirring something that looked and smelled suspiciously like chicken and dumplings-–one of his southern specialties. Aunt Patty ushered us to the table, where a regular feast was laid out for us, in the form of green beans, corn on the cob and macaroni salad. Zac's eyes seemed to grow three sizes when he saw it all and he was filling up a plate before Patty had even finished telling him to help himself.

Soon we were all sitting at the table, enjoying the meal that Patty and Mo cooked for us. Zac kept telling them they shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, but I could tell by the way he went back for seconds and thirds that he really didn't mind. And I knew that Mo _loved_ to cook and would have prepared as big a meal for just the two of them. Maybe he went a little overboard since he knew I was bringing my boyfriend over, but I didn't think anyone present was complaining.

After we finished dinner, Aunt Patty ushered us all into the living room and we sat around chatting over coffee and banana pudding. Naturally, she and Mo had tons of questions for Zac-–how we met, where he was from, what he was majoring in, etc. Mo was a high school band director, so it wasn't long before he had drawn Zac into an in depth discussion of marching band music. I took the opportunity to get Aunt Patty's attention and ask her about Thanksgiving.

“Aunt Patty,” I said, trying not to sound too much like I was asking for a huge favor and mostly failing. “What are you and Mo doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Oh, we're going down to North Carolina to visit Mo's sister,” she replied.

I tried not to let my disappointment show. “Oh. Oh, okay.”

“Aren't you going home to your dad's?”

“I haven't talked to him yet,” I replied, diving into my banana pudding with renewed interest just so that I wouldn't have to meet Patty's eyes.

I heard the click of her coffee cup being set down on the glass coaster. “Well, have you talked to your mama?”

I shook my head.

“Oh, honey,” she said, her voice low.

That did not sound good at all. Although I was afraid of what she might say next, I forced myself to raise my head and look back at her.

“I don't like being the one to tell you, but Jeff's taking her up to Snowshoe Mountain for the weekend.”

“Just the two of them,” I replied, and it wasn't a question. It was obvious from the way she said it that Mom was going on some romantic vacation that she hadn't even felt the need to tell me about.

Aunt Patty only nodded, concern and pity written all over her face. I hated that this whole divorce mess has caused so much of my family to look at me that way. It wasn't _my_ fault any of this was happening, yet I still seemed to be the one hurting most from it. It just wasn't fair.

I stood up suddenly, clearing my throat. From the corner of my eye, I saw Zac turn back to look at me. With my voice raised a little bit, I said, “I'm just going to take my plate back to the kitchen.”

Aunt Patty offered me a small nod, still looking at me with all that pity on her face. Mo told me not to trouble myself with the dishes. Zac reached out for me, but I was already several steps away from him and he ended up with nothing more than a handful of air.

I dumped the rest of my banana pudding in the trash can, my appetite for it completely gone. As I turned to walk back to the living room, I found that I really had no desire to rejoin the dinner party. The staircase was located just inside the kitchen, though, and it provided me the perfect escape. I slipped up the stairs quietly, just out of view of the three of them in the living room, and hurried to the bedroom I had called mine for the summer.

There were times when, despite my age, I really felt like an old fashioned temper tantrum was perfectly called for. This just so happened to be one of those times. When everything else seemed to be going right, I still couldn't escape this stupid family drama. Maybe my dad would be fine with me coming home for the weekend, but I couldn't imagine it would be fun for either of us. And even that didn't solve the problem of my mother and how she constantly put her boyfriend ahead of me. I didn't even dare dream of calling her to talk about our Thanksgiving plans.

I wasn't mad at Aunt Patty and Uncle Mo, though. Even though they knew what I was going through, it wasn't up to them to fix it. I wasn't their daughter. It was nice enough of them to take me and my mother in-–even when there was really no reason for me to be there, too-–but that was really all I could ask of them. No, I wasn't mad at them at all.

And I also wasn't mad at Zac.

In fact, his invitation to spend Thanksgiving with him was feeling more and more appealing. Maybe I would just go with him and not bother telling my mother or my father what my plans were. If I was childish enough to throw a temper tantrum at my aunt's house, then running away to my boyfriend's house for the weekend didn't seem outside the realm of possibility, either.

As if he had known I was thinking about him, a knock came at the door, followed soon after by Zac's voice. “Toria? You in there?”

I wiped away a few tears, hoping I hadn't smeared my mascara too horribly. “Yeah, I am.”

He stepped through the door, but paused at the bottom of the couple of steps leading past the closet and into this big, weird attic bedroom. He shifted his weight back and forth, stuffing his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “You okay? Want some company?”

I scooted back toward the wall wordlessly, freeing up half the bed for him and hoping he got the hint.

He did, although he still looked sheepish and unsure as he shuffled across the room and laid down on the bed next to me. Without a word of his own, he reached for my hand, entwining his fingers with mine. I figured he was waiting for me to make the first move or say the first words, but I didn't know what to say or do.

We lay there in silence for a while, and I knew Zac was dying to talk, but he probably had no clue what to say. I really felt sorry him having to put up with my constant drama. I cleared my throat and turned to look at him. “I'm sorry I ran out like that.”

“It's alright,” he said. “Your aunt said you were probably upset... she didn't say why, though.”

“She did? Oh...”

Zac nodded, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “You wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head, but I could see Zac wasn't going to let me get away with that. With a heavy sigh, I said, “It's just this Thanksgiving thing. Apparently Mom already has plans with her boyfriend, which she told Aunt Patty about but not me. And of course Patty and Mo have their own plans-–which is fine, really-–so I can't stay here, either.”

“And your dad?”

“Haven't talked to him yet. I guess that's the next step, and it'll probably be okay, but...”

“But it's still upsetting, I know,” Zac replied, wrapping his arm around my waist. “You know there's still another option, right?”

I nodded. “I know. And it's really sounding like the best choice now. Not that it sounded _bad_ before.”

“Nice save,” he replied, a little smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“You know what I mean,” I said, returning his smirk. “Of course spending more time with you sounds good, but it's just... a big step, isn't it? We haven't even _really_ been together for that long.”

“A month on Tuesday, if you don't count when we were fighting.”

My smirk turned into a genuine smile at the realization that Zac had kept a close count of how long we'd been together. Even I hadn't thought to mark down the exact date we'd begun dating; granted, it was tough to really say when it started, but I couldn't argue with Zac picking homecoming night as our anniversary. 

“A month really isn't that long,” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “I know. But I've loved you for longer than that.”

I blinked, certain that I had heard him wrong. He could not have possibly just said that he loved me. If one month was too soon to spend a holiday with his family, then it was also most definitely too soon to say the L word. Yet, he had. It had rolled of his tongue as casually as though he were asking what was for dinner-–more casually than that, in fact. And that's how I knew he meant it. It was just a simple fact to him, nothing worthy of blowing out of proportion.

That seemed somehow backwards, yet exactly as it should have been. Maybe that's why I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

“I love you, too, Zac.”

He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, then looked me in the eyes. “We'll be okay. _You'll_ be okay. Whatever happens over Thanksgiving break, whatever you decide, it'll all be okay. I promise.”

“I love how positive you always are,” I said.

“It's just how I am,” he replied with a shrug, as though being endlessly optimistic in everything wasn't a huge, admirable skill. “Now come on, let's go back downstairs. I've still got half a plate of banana pudding that somebody took me away from.”


	35. A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends

It took me several days to finally work up the nerve to call my dad and talk to him about Thanksgiving plans. I knew I was making a bigger deal out of it than I needed to; he might have been a little cold and distant, but in general, he did whatever I wanted him to do. Maybe I felt guilty for that, though, and that's what kept me from asking him for more.

Either way, I finally had a brief bit of time to myself one afternoon while Zac was rehearsing with the pep band, getting ready for the basketball games that would start as soon as we got back from Thanksgiving. His band rehearsals were really the only time we spent apart, and I would probably have followed him to those if I wouldn't have been in the way. But on this particular day, it was a good thing, because it meant I had a little peace and quiet to call my dad.

It was still early in the afternoon, so I figured he was still in his office at the college. I dialed that number first, hoping he would answer so that I wouldn't have to deal with the complicated university messaging system. Luckily, he did.

“Dr. Remy.”

“It's me, Dad,” I replied.

“Oh, so it is. These office phones don't have caller id, you know. They're even more ancient than me.”

I laughed. “You're not ancient. You're just surprisingly bad with technology for someone who works in the sciences.”

“Alright, alright,” he said with a chuckle. “So, what's going on? How are things in the arts?”

“Things are good. We just finished up the fall production,” I replied. 

I hated the small talk, especially with my dad. But I didn't know of any other way to ease into asking him about Thanksgiving. Luckily, after a few minutes of boring talk about my classes, his classes and everything else, he decided to spare me the trouble.

“So, when do you leave for Thanksgiving break?”

“I guess I can leave Tuesday afternoon, after class,” I replied. “I wanted to ask you about that, though.”

“And I've been meaning to call you to talk about it as well.”

That didn't sound good.

He sighed. “Somehow, I've gotten roped into attending a dinner for the international students that my department head is hosting. I suppose everyone thinks I'll be all alone, eating a frozen dinner or something if they don't force me out of the house. They're not really wrong.”

“Okay...” I replied, not entirely sure what he was getting at. It was funny, though, that I had imagined the same microwaved Thanksgiving dinner.

“Well, I can't imagine that dinner would be much fun for you,” he said. “So if you want to go to Justine's or something, I would completely understand.”

I let out a huge sigh. It seemed things were, somehow, working out so well for me. Maybe I had been worried for no reason at all. I had dreaded this phone call so much I hadn't even wanted to make it, yet here was my dad, telling me I could basically do whatever I wanted for Thanksgiving. It was the perfect out. I couldn't even remember why I had been so worried in the first place.

“Victoria, are you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm still here,” I replied. “Umm, I actually have another option for the weekend. I've been dating this guy for awhile, and he invited me to come home with him for the weekend.”

“And you said yes?”

“I hadn't said anything yet. I wanted to check with you first,” I replied. I deliberately left out all the other options I _didn't_ have for Thanksgiving.

Dad was more perceptive than I gave him credit for, though. “What about your mother? Or Aunt Patty?”

“Aunt Patty and Mo are going to visit Mo's family,” I said. 

There was a silence on the line, as though he were waiting for me to mention Mom's plans. I really didn't want to say a single word about her. He wouldn't let me get away with that, though. “What about your mother?”

“She's got plans with her boyfriend, apparently.”

“Oh, I see,” he replied, his voice low. Dad didn't let his emotions show very often, but somehow I could still by his voice that he didn't like hearing about what Mom was doing, and I didn't know if it was the way she was treating me, the boyfriend or both. I didn't dare ask. “Well, I can see why spending the weekend with your boyfriend would be what you would want to do. It certainly sounds like the better option for you.”

There was still something strange in his voice, even though he was saying all the right words. “Are you sure, Dad?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I'll still see you at Christmas break, right?”

“Definitely.” 

“Great. Maybe we'll go to the Santa Train again, like we did when you were little.”

“Sounds great,” I replied.

Once I had filled dad in on the details of my Thanksgiving plans with Zac, we said our goodbyes and hung up. So, that was taken care of, and much more easily than I had expected. It didn't totally ease my mind, though. Until dad mentioned it, I hadn't even thought about Christmas break. Of course I would come home, to my real home, at some point. I would probably have to spend some time with Mom and her boyfriend, too, and I really didn't want to think about that, yet. I hoped I could visit Zac, too. I suddenly felt like I was being pulled in a million directions.

The Santa Train had been one of our traditions when I was much, much younger. It was a long drive downstate, but it was always something that me and Dad did together-–one of the only things we ever did together, in fact. We had to get up early in the morning, when it was still pitch black out, and drive down to Haysi, where the train began its journey across the state, a man in a Santa suit throwing candy and toys off the back of the train at every stop along the way. We usually followed it all the way to the Tennessee border, eating junk food and piling the back of Dad's truck with mountains of the cheap toys.

It was a silly thing to be so excited about doing now that I was an adult, but I couldn't help it. I liked the thought of doing something so childish and silly. It made me feel like maybe things hadn't changed so much since I was a kid, even though logically I knew they had. But maybe, for one December morning, I could forget and pretend.

I laid back on my bed and sighed, glad that something was finally working out for me. Maybe everything would be okay after all.

I had only rested for a few minutes when the door, which Justine and I always left unlocked when we were in, flew open. I didn't need to open my eyes to guess who it was. Soft footsteps crossed the room, and soon the bed sank underneath someone's weight. An arm nudged me gently, and Zac's voice rang out, “Come on, scoot over.”

I laughed, finally opening my eyes to see Zac in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair damp, presumably from a shower. I scooted toward the wall, giving him room to lay down beside me. “Done with band practice already?”

“It didn't run very long today,” he said. “We just hauled a lot of our equipment over to the gym to set up for the basketball games and get some practice playing in there. Which is why I showered. Really worked up a sweat hauling those big drums.”

“Yeah, I bet you did,” I replied with a laugh. I had seen, at homecoming, that Zac was far stronger than he appeared, so I had no doubt he was exaggerating just how much he had exerted himself moving drums across campus.

We lay there in comfortable silence for a while before Zac finally asked the question I was sure had been at the forefront of his mind. “So, did you talk to your dad?”

“I did,” I replied. “He's got plans to go to some dinner with his department head, so he was cool with me skipping out on that to go home with you.”

“Yeah?” Zac's grin was already stretching all the way across his face, despite the slight hesitance in his voice.

I nodded. “Yup. I kinda told him about the crap with mom, so I think he felt sorry enough for me to just let me do whatever I wanted. He definitely wants me home during Christmas break, though.”

“Well, I can't blame him for that. We've got five weeks, though. Maybe we can still get together at some point.”

“I'd like that. A lot.”

“Me too,” he replied. “Even if it does mean I'll actually have to buy you a Christmas present.”

I gave him a playful shove. I hadn't even begun to think about what I was going to get him for Christmas, but the grin on his face made me think that, despite his words, he was already planning his present for me. 

“Alright, alright,” Zac said, laughing. “So you're definitely going home with me and Tay for Thanksgiving, huh?”

I grinned. “Definitely. Is the rest of your family as crazy as the two of you?”

“Where do you think we get it from? That shit is _all_ genetic. But seriously, they're not bad. I think you'll like them, and I know they'll love you.”

My grin spread so far across my face that it actually hurt. Zac's optimism was really starting to infect me. Not that I was complaining, though. I had no problem at all with being a little more like him, at least in that way.

“Well, I hope the weekend goes well,” I replied.

Zac leaned over and kissed my cheek. “It will. And if it doesn't, we'll just have to make sure that Christmas break is even better.”

“Oh, so I'm definitely visiting you for Christmas, then?”

He shrugged. “Or I'm visiting you. Whichever. What's Christmas like in Blacksburg?”

“Well, my dad doesn't have a lot of family, so usually it's just my mom's family visiting. And sometimes we'll host a few professors for a little dinner party. I suppose neither of those will happen this year.”

Zac shot me a sympathetic look. “Your dad will like having you there, though. Especially if he doesn't have a lot of family.”

“Yeah, that's true,” I replied. Sometimes I forgot that my dad was really all alone. “He did talk about taking me to the Santa Train, though.”

“Santa Train?”

I shrugged and smiled. “It's just a little something we used to do when I was little. But it was always fun. It sounds silly to go now, doesn't it?”

“Not at all,” Zac replied. “In fact, I may have to visit that weekend. If that's okay. I don't wanna intrude on your tradition.”

“Intrude away,” I said with a grin. “We can check out the Christmas lights around Tech's campus, too. That was my other favorite thing to do at Christmas when I was little.”

“That sounds fantastic. But who am I kidding? A root canal would sound fun if you were there.”

I rolled my eyes and gave him a little shove. Sometimes he could be absolutely ridiculous, and totally cheesy, but I was finding that I really didn't mind at all. I loved him, cheesiness, ridiculousness and all.


	36. More Native To The Heart

Since Taylor had to work Tuesday evening, we decided to wait until Wednesday afternoon to leave. We would pick him up at his apartment after eating lunch in the food court before it closed for the holiday weekend. Dad said it was okay to let Zac drive my car, since it was bigger than Zac's Cougar and Taylor's Cavalier put together. I had never driven to Arlington before, although I had been to DC a few times with my family. I was terrified of driving there myself, but I knew my Jeep was in good hands with Zac.

When we pulled into Taylor's parking lot, he was already outside, hauling an impossibly large suitcase out the door, with two more bags slung over his shoulder. It looked like he might actually crumple under the weight of all of it.

“He does know we're just going to stay the weekend, right?” I asked, hurrying to open the back of my Jeep before Taylor reached it.

Zac laughed. “Oh, he knows. But you know how he is with clothes. I bet one of those bags is just for scarfs and boots.”

“I heard that,” Taylor huffed, somehow managing to hoist his industrial sized suitcase-–seriously, he could have hauled a body in that thing-–into the back of the car without any help. 

“Yet you're not denying it,” Zac replied, crossing behind the car to take the keys from me.

Taylor didn't even bother dignifying that with a response, probably because he knew Zac was right. Instead, he stuffed his other bags in the car and took his seat in the back. I settled into the passenger seat, Zac into the drivers', and within seconds we were on the road.

The drive only took about three hours, which wasn't all that bad considering the traffic. I guess we missed the worst of it. Still, we sat in bumper to bumper traffic on the beltway long enough for Zac and Taylor to drill me on all their siblings' names. I still wasn't confident that I would remember all of them, but at least it helped to pass the time.

When Zac told me he lived in Arlington, I had expected something urban and sterile, or maybe an old fashioned building from the capital's past. He hadn't explained that while he did, technically, live in Arlington County, he actually lived in a suburb that wasn't all that different from the ones I was used to at home. Maybe it was a little fancier. Okay, a _lot_ fancier. As we drove through a maze of nearly identical houses, I couldn't help wondering if politicians and important people lived in the same neighborhood.

We finally rolled to stop in front of an impressively large house-–although I supposed I shouldn't have been _that_ impressed by the size, considering how large their family was. They would certainly need a lot of room for that many kids. Still, it kind of took my breath away. It wasn't one of those ridiculous gated mansions or anything, but it was certainly fancier than even a chemistry professor's salary could buy.

As we walked to the door, bags in hand (and, in Taylor's case, dragging behind us), I turned to Zac and asked, “What did you say your dad did, again?”

“Something governmental,” Zac replied with a shrug. “He's not a politician or anything, but it's still a pretty cushy gig.”

“I'll say it is,” I said, glancing up at the fairly imposing house in front of us.

Zac nudged the doorbell with his shoulder, given that he didn't have a free hand to dig his keys out of his pocket. Within seconds, a smiling woman with long blonde hair swung the door open and wrapped Zac up into a tight hug. She pulled him into the house, murmuring something about how she was certain he had lost weight, then turned her attention to Taylor, who struggled to balance all his bags and hug her at the same time. From the obvious resemblance, and her actions, I had no doubt this was their mother.

After doting on her sons for a while, she finally turned to me. “And you're Victoria, I suppose?”

I nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Or Toria. I go by both.”

“Well, you can call me Diana, and it's very good to meet you,” she replied, then turned back to Zac. “She's even prettier than you said.”

Zac blushed bright red, and I was quite certain from the way my cheeks burned that I looked the same. I thought I heard a little snicker from Taylor, but he quickly covered it with a terribly fake cough. Diana-–it felt a little strange to call her that, but who was I to argue?-–escorted us through the house, pausing in the living room to rattle off the names of the other children who were milling about. With Taylor and Zac's crash course on the way over, I thought I would manage to remember which of them was which. I might get the girls mixed up, but I felt fairly confident that I would remember that the boy planted behind the computer was Mackie.

Diana continued ushering us through the house, giving me a very quick version of the grand tour. The boys' bedrooms were all on the second floor and I was utterly shocked that Taylor was able to drag his suitcase all the way up the stairs. Somehow, though, he made it. He and Zac headed straight for their bedroom, Zac grumbling all the way about how he did not like having to share again.

Directly across from their room was the one I would be staying in, Diana explained. They didn't have a guest room, as such, but Isaac's old bedroom mostly served that purpose, when he wasn't visiting and using it. It was mostly devoid of any decorations that would give away the fact that it once belonged to a teenage boy, though. Diana assured me there was plenty of room in the drawers for my clothes, and left me to unpack with one last request that I come downstairs and find her if I needed anything. Once she was gone, I opened my small-–especially compared to Taylor's--suitcase and began sorting some clothes out to put in the empty dresser drawers.

“Getting settled in?” Zac asked from the doorway. I spun around to see him leaning casually against the door frame. “She's kind of talkative. Sorry about that.”

I laughed. “Must be where you get it from.”

“Must be,” he replied with a grin, stepping into the room. “Mom's gonna be busy making stuff for tomorrow all night, so we're kind of on our own for dinner. Taylor was thinking about taking her car out and picking up pizza for everyone. You wanna go or just stay here? I'm good either way.”

“We can stay. I'm kinda tired of sitting in cars today,” I replied, shutting my suitcase even though it was still half full of clothes. Unpacking for just a few days seemed kind of pointless, anyway.

Zac grinned. “That's what I was thinking, too. Wanna hang out in my room, though?”

“Sure,” I replied.

Zac turned and walked out of the room without me, although I was confident I could make it across the hall to his room without a guide. The door was wide open and he was already sprawled out on one of the beds when I walked in. The walls were dark blue, which matched the plaid blankets on each of the two twin beds on either side of the door. There were two matching desks on the far wall, framing the window. I didn't have to ask to know that the one covered in paints and drawing pads was Zac's. The room was far cleaner than I would have expected from teenage boys, but I figured their mom had cleaned it up before they came home to visit.

Zac patted an impossibly small spot on the bed next to him, and I eyed it suspiciously for a second before laying down, immediately cuddling up to his side-–partially because it was my favorite place to be and partially because he hadn't left me a lot of room. He picked up a remote from somewhere and began flipping through the channels on a tv that was perched on top of a chest on the opposite wall with the desks.

It wasn't long before Zac abandoned the idea of watching television in favor of, well, me. His lips found their way to my neck first, his fingers tracing little patterns along my side. His voice low, he whispered in my ear, “I wish you could stay in here with me. Or I could stay over there with you. Whatever. As long as we were alone...”

I felt myself blushing again. “In your parents house, Zac? Really?”

He shrugged. “Doesn't bother me. But I guess it is kinda...”

“Disrespectful?” I offered.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Besides, they're pretty conservative. If they knew what we've done, that I stay in your room like every night, or if they knew about Tay...”

The way he frowned and nibbled on his bottom lip let me know that he wished he hadn't started that unfinished statement about Taylor. It hadn't even occurred to me to think about what their parents might have said about Taylor; I had been so concerned with Zac's reaction, with how Taylor himself was coping, and with Whitley, that I didn't even think about all the other ramifications.

As if he had known we were talking about him, Taylor chose that moment to walk in with two large pizza boxes and three Dr. Peppers perched on top. I thought it was funny that even now, away from his job, Taylor was still waiting on us. But I wasn't really in the mood for jokes, so I didn't point it out.

The entire time we ate, Zac and Taylor were already discussing what they wanted to eat the next day. It sounded like Diana cooked a real feast for Thanksgiving, although I couldn't help thinking any meal in that house would have to be a feast just to ensure that no one starved. It was still ridiculous to me that Zac and Tay could talk about their next meal while they were still eating the current one. Again, I didn't remark. Something about Zac's comments earlier-–both about wanting to do _that_ in his parents' house and about Taylor-–had unsettled me.

By the time we had eaten our fill and sat around chatting for a while, it had gotten pretty late. I bid the two of them goodnight and went back to my room to get ready for bed. My grand tour earlier had included the bathroom down the hall that all the boys shared, and I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't as gross as an all boys bathroom sounded like it would be.

I showered as quickly as I could, just in case one of the boys wanted to use the bathroom, too. After nearly a full semester of college, I was getting pretty good at taking quick showers. It seemed almost unbelievable that I'd been in college for nearly an entire semester, I thought, as I hurried back to my room and began drying my hair. An entire semester. So much had changed, yet somehow it seemed like it was just yesterday that it had all begun.

I could still remember, so vividly, the first day I saw Zac in Starbucks. He hadn't caught my eye in class, but from that day on, he had been a constant in my life. And now I was in his house, spending a holiday with his family. It was enough to make my head spin, but in a good way.

With my pajamas on and my hair dried, I settled into bed for the night. The mattress was far more comfortable than the one in my dorm room and the sheets smelled freshly washed. I had a feeling it wouldn't be long at all before I was drifting off to sleep.

Just as I felt sleep beginning to take me over, a soft, almost imperceptible knock came at the door. The door crept open a tiny bit and I rolled over to see who it was, even though I was certain I already knew.

“Toria?” Zac whispered, his body silhouetted by the hallway light. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” I replied, my own voice nearly a whisper too.

I saw him step into the room, but his actions became a mystery once he had shut the door and plunged us back into darkness. Seconds passed, and soon I felt the familiar feeling of the mattress sinking under his weight. He pulled back the covers and crawled underneath them with me, his arms finding their way around my waist easily.

“Couldn't sleep without you,” he breathed out against my neck.

“What if we get in trouble?” 

I could feel him shrug, even if I couldn't see it. “I just want to sleep next to you, that's all. We'll be okay.”

That strange sixth sense I seemed to have sometimes, alerting me whenever something was about to go wrong, started to kick in. I didn't know how badly his parents would react if they caught us in bed together, but surely it couldn't be too bad. We were both adults, after all. Still, I couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was going to upset the balance of our little world soon.


	37. Trippingly On The Tongue

When I woke in the morning, Zac was already gone. That didn't surprise me; I figured he had slipped out early so that we wouldn't get caught together. For a moment, I was a little disoriented, both because of the lack of him beside me and because I was in an unfamiliar bed. After taking a few seconds to adjust to my surroundings, I pulled myself out of bed and dug some clothes out of the dresser drawer that I had begun to fill the night before.

As soon as I opened the bedroom door, I was hit with the unmistakable smell of a veritable feast being cooked downstairs. I couldn't pick out all the individual smells, but whatever they were, they had my mouth positively watering before I even made it to the bottom of the stairs.

When I reached the landing, I saw that most of the family-–Zac, Taylor and two of his sisters who I thought were Avery and Zoe-–was crowded around the television in the living room. The tv was tuned to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, and I couldn't help smiling. I had always enjoyed watching the parade, and I liked that I would be able to keep that little bit of my own tradition even though this was a very different Thanksgiving than any I had ever celebrated before.

Zac glanced up at me from his spot on the couch with Taylor. “There's probably some breakfast left if you hurry. Just some bagels and stuff. Mom couldn't make time for breakfast today, too.”

“That's more than enough,” I replied. “I've gotta save room for dinner, anyway.”

A quick trip to the kitchen revealed that there were, in fact, some bagels and donuts left. I couldn't blame Diana for not wanting to cook breakfast too. She had already enlisted Jessica to help her with Thanksgiving dinner and the two of them were so engrossed with whatever they were mixing that they didn't notice me at all. I grabbed a cinnamon raisin bagel and, after a bit of searching, located a glass and poured myself some orange juice. When I walked back into the living room, Zac gave Taylor a hard nudge and he scooted over so all three of us could fit on the couch.

“Sleep well?” Zac asked, a certain tone to his voice that I'm sure Taylor noticed, even if it flew over the girls' heads. It was still enough to make me blush, even though we really had done nothing but sleep in each other's arms.

I didn't trust myself not to say something stupid, so I just shoved a bite of bagel in my mouth and nodded, hoping Zac got the hint to drop the subject. He seemed to, and we settled back onto the couch to watch the Rockettes.

As we watched the parade, Zac explained to me that his family always had more of a Thanksgiving _lunch_ than dinner, and then everyone scattered around to do whatever they wanted for the rest of the day, with the assurance that there were plenty of leftovers to eat for the rest of the weekend. Usually he and Taylor would be recruited to help, along with the girls who Diana had already called for, but apparently they had gotten a reprieve that year so they could “entertain their guest.”

Entertaining, in their world, mostly meant cracking jokes about all the singers and dancers in the parade. I could think of worse ways to spend my day, though. Too soon, the parade wound down. Just after Santa made his way up 34th Street, the doorbell rang out. Diana called out to us from the kitchen, asking if one of us could answer it and Zac jumped up to do so.

It was Isaac, of course, and his wife Melissa. As Zac ushered them into the living room, I couldn't help but notice how even their outfits seem to match, and I wondered if they did it on purpose. If Zac and I were together long enough, would we start to dress alike, too? I couldn't really picture myself in baggy jeans and old t-shirts or Zac in ruffly skirts, so I decided we were probably safe.

After a quick hello to all of us, the matching khaki couple headed to the kitchen. A few minutes later, Isaac returned on his own, mumbling something about how Melissa had been recruited to help with the cooking. 

“How did you guys manage to get out of cooking?” Isaac asked, settling into the recliner next to the couch.

“Entertaining our guest,” Zac replied, punctuating the sentence by wrapping his arm tighter around me-–as if there was any doubt that I was the “guest” in question.

“And you?” Isaac asked, turning his head toward Taylor.

Taylor shrugged and smirked. “I guess she's my guest, too. Or mom just feels bad since I spend every other day of my life serving people food and drinks.”

“Lucky,” Isaac replied, then turned his attention to the television. He made some remark about the football game that had just begun, but I didn't even bother trying to process it. I couldn't have cared less about football, and I was pretty sure Taylor and Zac agreed. Zac did at least know the mechanics of the game, but I was pretty sure that was due to marching band and not any actual interest in the sport.

Unfortunately, Isaac didn't seem willing to surrender the remote, so we were all forced to either watch the game or go volunteer our services in the kitchen. Laziness won out, and none of us budged an inch. I curled up into Zac's side, wondering if I had time for a nap before we ate. I didn't really need a nap, considering I hadn't woken up that long ago, but the inside of my eyelids sounded far more interesting than a football game.

Somewhere around halftime, the couch began vibrating. It took me a few seconds to come out of my daze and realize the source was Taylor's pants-–specifically, his cell phone. Once he managed to wiggle the phone out of his pocket and look at the screen, his face turned bright red. He stuttered and stammered for a second, then jumped up and ran out of the room.

Isaac stared blankly at the space vacated by Taylor. “I'm sure I've asked this a million times before, but what the hell is wrong with our brother?”

“If I had to guess, I'd say he just got a phone call from Joey,” Zac replied. I glanced up at him and saw that he was immediately regretting his words. Isaac had surely seen Taylor and Joey together at the homecoming dance, but I don't recall anyone explaining the exact nature of their relationship to him.

The way Isaac stared back at us with wide eyes made it very clear that he didn't know, but had just put two and two together. “Joey's not short for Josephine, is it?”

Zac and I both shook our heads. I didn't know what Zac was thinking, but I suddenly felt very much like I was intruding just by being at their house and being a part of this conversation. It wasn't my place at all, but the second I started to stand up, Zac wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back down onto the couch.

“No, stay. Please,” Zac whispered to me, then turned back to Isaac. “Look, you should probably talk to Taylor about that...”

“Talk to Taylor about what?” Diana asked. 

We all turned simultaneously to see her standing in the doorframe, wiping her hands on her apron. She was actually wearing an apron. And here we were, discussing her son's sexuality. The three of us shared a quick look, none of us sure what to say. Finally, Isaac spoke, “Oh, I was just asking how his classes are going this semester.”

It was a flimsy answer, but it seemed to satisfy their mom's curiosity. She gave him a quick nod and a smile, then said, “Well, the food is almost ready. It's first come, first serve, so you might want to come on in and get in line.”

I figured most of that was for my benefit, since surely the two Hanson boys already knew how things were going to go. Zac assured her we would be in line soon, and she walked back out of the room leaving us in an awkward silence. We were still completely silent when Taylor walked back in, his face still bright red and a huge grin spreading across it.

“What?” Taylor asked, plopping back down on the couch next to me.

I eyed Zac cautiously, hoping he would take the hint and speak so that I didn't have to. Luckily, he did. “Umm, food's ready.”

I could tell by the look on his face that Taylor didn't quite buy that-–smarter than he looked, really-–but he didn't question it. Instead, he stood right back up and grinned even more. “Great. Let's go eat.”

They weren't kidding about Diana fixing a real feast for Thanksgiving. The younger kids had already beat us to the line, which stretched practically all across the kitchen-–as did the selection of food on each and every counter top. As I made my way through the line, I piled up my styrofoam plate with all manner of delicious looking foods-–turkey, stuffing, fluffy crescent rolls, macaroni salad and more. 

The pile of food on Zac's plate was twice as high as mine. I didn't even know how he was able to lift it and not drop it, but he seemed to have it under control. With a big grin, he nodded toward the living room. “Let's go back in there to eat. Less crowded.”

He was right. Most of their family had already taken their plates to the huge dining room table, so it was just the two of us, Taylor, Isaac and Melissa in the living room. Zac, Taylor and I crammed ourselves onto the couch again, while Isaac sat in the floor so that Melissa could have the recliner. None of really spoke much for a while, all too consumed by the massive amounts of food on our plates to even think about conversation.

Isaac was the first one to break the silence. “So what did _Joey_ want?”

The words weren't cruel, just genuinely curious, but I could feel Taylor tensing next to me as though he had been accused of something awful. His jaw clenched tightly, he replied in a careful measured attempt at a casual tone. “Nothing. Just wanted to say hi.”

Oblivious to the awkwardness, Melissa asked, “Who's Joey?”

At that, everyone in the room tensed. It seemed none of us wanted to be the next to speak. Isaac stared up at his wife and shook his head slightly, as if to dismiss her question. “Just a friend of Taylor's. Right, Tay?”

It was the worst attempt at a lie that I had ever heard. Melissa's face showed that she didn't buy it, and she looked to Taylor for a better answer. Instinctively, feeling Taylor's nervous energy bubbling up, I scooted closer to Zac.

“Thank you ever so much for bringing up the subject, Ike,” Taylor spat. “I really wanted to have this conversation over Thanksgiving dinner. Really.”

“I'm not asking you to have any conversation. I'm sorry.” 

His apology seemed genuine, but I feared we had already gone too far for Taylor to calm down. I hadn't really seen him angry before. Although he didn't really seem angry now, more like he had just reached the end of his rope. He set his plate of food in the floor with such shaky hands that I was shocked he didn't spill any of it, and stood up.

“You know what? Whatever. Fine. Let's have that conversation. Joey's my boyfriend, okay?”

“Your _what_?” 

I think we all nearly gave ourselves whiplash as we turned to find the source of those two words. Diana. Just as quickly, we turned back to Taylor, who stared wide eyed at his mother, his mouth hanging open but no sound coming from it. Without another word, he rushed from the room.


	38. A Rhapsody of Words

The only sound in the room after Taylor left was the soda he tripped over spilling out into the carpet. Diana turned on her heel and ran out as well, soon returning with a towel to clean up the spill. In her absence, I picked up the cup and stopped its progress across the room. Zac grabbed Taylor's abandoned plate of food and hurried off to the kitchen with it.

We all worked together to clean up the mess Taylor had left behind-–the physical mess, at least. It seemed no one wanted to be the first to address the other mess he had created. So, we consumed ourselves with mopping up soda and ignored the bigger issue. It was just easier that way.

The mess was gone in minutes, leaving only the slightest trace that Taylor had ever been in the living room, and leaving all of us with no more reason to stay quiet. Diana nervously fiddled with the dish towel in her hand and eyed the four of us. 

“Well,” she said, glancing at all of us, but not focusing on any one person. “I just wanted to let you all know that I set out dessert. Just... help yourselves.”

She turned on her heel and walked back out of the room as though nothing at all out of the ordinary had just happened. Except for the damp spot on the floor and Taylor's conspicuous absence, it was hard to tell that anything unusual _had_ happened. But we all knew, even if nothing looked different, that things had changed irrevocably.

I looked at Zac, urging him with my eyes to say or do something, anything. I didn't know what I expected of him, though. He had already proven that, while his heart was in the right place, he was just about useless in dealing with Taylor's situation.

Isaac cleared his throat and I turned to look at him. He stood awkwardly in front of the television, as though his body had gotten ahead of his mind and stood up all on its own. “I should – I mean, this is kind of my fault. I'll go talk to Taylor.”

“Ike, it's not your fault,” Zac said. “It's no one's fault.”

“I don't mean him being--” Isaac stopped and cleared his throat. “But I'm the one who made him talk about it. So, yeah. My fault.”

Isaac strode out of the room with purpose, although I wondered if he even had any clue what he was going to say or where Taylor had gone. He had a stubbornness about him, though, that I had to assume ran in the family. I stole a glance at his wife, who sat wordlessly in her chair, staring down at her half-finished dinner. I wondered if she felt as awkward as I did, intruding on this family crisis. At least I had been privy to Taylor's problems before; I didn't know how well she knew him at all and I didn't really think it was the time to ask.

In fact, I didn't really think it was the time to do anything but eat dessert and pretend that nothing was wrong. Yes, it was definitely time to call up my acting skills. I plastered on my best fake smile and turned back to Zac. “So, what's for dessert?”

“Humble pie, for Ike,” he mumbled, low enough for only me to hear.

****

The pie, as it turns out, was pumpkin. Though I suppose somewhere in the house, Isaac probably did eat his own helping of humble pie as well. As for Zac and I, we beat a hasty retreat to his bedroom with plates piled high with pumpkin pie and German chocolate cake and lost ourselves in his and Taylor's large dvd collection.

It was a shameless attempt to distract ourselves and hide out, but it seemed the only reasonable course of action. Maybe I should have felt like a coward, but I didn't. On campus, I could meddle in Taylor's business and boss Zac around; in their own home, it didn't seem appropriate. I was a guest there, after all.

A guest who was, at that particular moment, cuddling with her boyfriend in his childhood bedroom. It felt a little strange, to be honest. The whole situation felt strange, but I didn't know what to do about any of it. I was sure I would have had a worse Thanksgiving if I hadn't gone home with Zac, though. 

We stayed holed up on his bedroom for the rest of the afternoon. After we finished the second Harry Potter movie, Zac volunteered to go downstairs and retrieve some leftovers for dinner, but otherwise, neither of us moved at all for the rest of the evening. 

The credits were just starting to roll on Mallrats when the door burst open and Taylor fell, rather unceremoniously, onto his bed. I looked at Zac, imploring him to say something, but he only gave me a shrug. With a sigh, I realized I would have to be the one to do the talking-–even if it didn't feel like my place.

Unable to think of anything smarter to say, I finally looked at Taylor and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” he replied, picking at the hole in the knee of his jeans. “Are we having a Kevin Smith marathon?”

Zac shook his head. “Just a movie marathon in general. You can pick the next one if you want.”

Taylor seemed to consider the idea for a moment, biting his lip. Finally, he flashed us the tiniest of smiles. “Home Alone?”

With a huge grin, Zac sprung from the bed and retrieved the movie from the box in the floor where they, evidently, stored their shared movie collection. As he put it in the dvd player, he turned his head back toward me and explained, “It's kind of a Thanksgiving tradition. We always watch it at some point, even though it's a Christmas movie. We're just weird like that.”

“Of course you are,” I replied with a laugh, then immediately regretted it. Considering the events of the day, was it really a good idea to call Taylor weird? A glance in his direction showed that he didn't seem to have even registered my words. As Zac settled in next to me and picked up the remote, I grabbed his hand before he could press play. “Tay? Are you sure you're alright?”

Taylor's head snapped up and his eyes unclouded. “Yeah. Really. Let's not make a big deal out of it, okay?”

“It is a big deal, though,” Zac replied.

Taylor gave a small, snorting sort of laugh. “Seems like you two are the only ones who think so.”

Zac and I tilted our heads in unison, and I momentarily wondered if we weren't as bad as Isaac and Melissa. I supposed there were worse things to be than a couple who was that in sync with each other, though. After a moment, Zac asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Taylor said with a sigh. “Turns out, I was worried about nothing. Mom was more upset about the mess I made when I stormed out than she was about my sexuality. Dad didn't really say anything, but when does he? And Isaac... well, turns out he already knew, anyway.”

“He knew?” Zac's brow furrowed.

Taylor nodded. “I guess wasn't... very discreet last year, when I was the only Hanson on campus. There's a lot you didn't see when you visited me. But Ike had friends who were still there, and I guess word got back to him. Not that he was surprised, though. Apparently.”

“If it makes you feel better, I was surprised,” Zac said.

“Yeah, I remember,” Taylor replied, his lips threatening to turn up in a smile.

“For what it's worth,” I started, still feeling like I was intruding by even speaking. “I didn't know, either. Not that I had really known you very long...”

“I never thought you were a good judge of character, anyway. After all, you're dating Zac.” Taylor's hint of a smile turned into a full on smirk at that, and the tension in the room finally began to dissipate.

Even though Taylor did honestly seem to be in a better mood, I didn't see the need to press the issue and possibly upset him again. I nudged Zac, and he got the hint, pressing play on the remote. We settled back onto the bed together once again and the three of us watched the movie in silence-–except for Zac and Taylor quoting various bits of the dialogue and laughing loudly, of course.

It was still pretty early when we finished that movie, so Taylor and I elected that Zac should go retrieve us more snacks and we should watch the second movie in the series. We all agreed, however, that the third movie didn't exist. 

With Zac out of the room, I found that I did feel a little more comfortable talking candidly with Taylor. “So, is Thanksgiving always this exciting here?”

Taylor chuckled. “Usually, no. I don't make it a habit of screaming about my boyfriend during holiday dinners. The clumsiness is a kind of tradition, though.”

“I'd say the clumsiness is more daily than just once a year,” I pointed out with a smile. “But seriously, you're alright?”

“For once, yeah, I'm alright. Mom and Dad were surprisingly cool about it all, like I said. They even want me to bring Joey to visit over Christmas break.”

I felt my smile growing wider. “That's great! Have you told him yet?”

“No, I haven't,” Taylor replied. “What about you? Are you going to visit for Christmas, too?”

“I think so. We talked about it a little bit. He wants to visit me at my dad's, too.”

Taylor smiled back and finally seemed to relax completely, unfolding his ridiculously long body along the entire length of his bed. “That's cool. I know I joked about you being a bad judge of character, but you two are great together. Not that Zac's ever had bad taste in women, exactly. But you two just... fit. I like it.”

“I like it, too,” I replied with a giggle.

My giggle was still hanging in the air when Zac walked back into the room and he shot us both an accusing look. “Were you guys talking about me?”

“Conceited,” I shot back. “But... maybe.”

“About how devastatingly handsome I am, right?”

Taylor rolled his eyes and yanked a Dr. Pepper from Zac's hands. “Yeah. That's _exactly_ what we were talking about.”

“I knew it,” Zac replied, plopping down on the bed next to me. He handed me a soda and gave me my choice of several bags of chips before handing the other bags to Taylor.

Despite the soda, my energy started to wane about halfway through the movie. I didn't even realize it was happening until the sound of Taylor's cell phone ringing brought me back to the land of the living. My eyes gradually came back into focus and I saw the credits rolling. I had already seen the movie a million times, though.

From the other side of the room, Taylor flipped his phone open and said, “Hey, baby.”

His tone of voice gave away that he was talking to Joey again and I couldn't help smiling. I was glad that he was so comfortable now, at least around the two of us. He'd get more comfortable around the rest of the world, I was sure. 

Zac gave me a slight nudge. “Are we that bad?”

“Oh, we're way worse.” I giggled.

Zac giggled, and I could see from the look on his face that he agreed. Taylor spoke in hushed tones, all but turning to face the wall for a sense of privacy. Zac gave me another nudge. “Come on, let's the lovebirds talk.”

A glance at the clock as we walked out showed that it was nearing midnight-–no wonder I had fallen asleep so easily. I followed Zac across the hall and into the guest bedroom, where my pajamas from the night before still lay on the bed, waiting for me. I shrugged out of my clothes and pulled the pajamas on, Zac's eyes on me the entire time from his perch on the side of the bed.

He wiggled out of his jeans as I made my way around to the other side of the bed and curled up under the covers. I hadn't actually asked if he was spending the night with me; I just assumed he would. And evidently, he assumed the same thing. It was a good assumption to make, though. I curled up into his arms easily, as though we were two puzzle pieces made to go together. Maybe we were.

“Did you have a good Thanksgiving?” He asked.

I nodded. “Yup. Can't think of anywhere else I'd rather spend the weekend.”

“Me either,” he replied. “But if you were there, it wouldn't really matter where I was.”


	39. The Curtain Falls

The rest of our Thanksgiving weekend passed without any major incidents. On Saturday, Zac and Taylor took me into DC for a little sightseeing, and on Sunday, we piled into my car to drive back to campus. Between Taylor's clothes and the mountains of Tupperware containers full of leftovers that Diana insisted we take back with us, I wasn't sure there would actually be room for all three of us in the Jeep.

When we finally arrived back in Richmond, I was struck with the realization that my first semester of college was about to end. Only a few weeks and some final exams stood between me and Christmas break. It seemed strange that it had passed so quickly, and yet, with all its drama, it seemed to have lasted forever as well.

This place, this college, and these friends had become a home to me. I remembered Zac telling me, when we barely knew each other, that my friends would be there for me at all times. They couldn't replace my family, but they could, in a way, be my family, too. I liked that thought. As we drove down the streets of Richmond toward campus, I understood his meaning more than I ever had before. Richmond itself didn't feel like home, but everything–-and everyone–-else that I was returning to did.

I realized, though, as Zac pulled into the parking lot in front of Johnson, that I wouldn't change a single second of the past semester. It was such a cheesy thought to have that I mentally chastised myself for it, but even my internal admonishment didn't change the way I felt. Sure, I had made a few mistakes-–dating Donovan, not realizing how great Zac was, accusing him of cheating-–but overall, I felt that things had happened as they should. After all of it, I had ended up with Zac, and I was happy. What else mattered?

Sure, we still had problems to face-–all of us. Taylor was still, by and large, in the closet. My mother was still... well, infuriating, and I hadn't worked up the nerve to deal with that yet. I was still a little unsure and unsteady on my feet in this whole relationship thing, even though I knew without a doubt that I did love Zac. But we were both still young, still learning our way around this whole dating thing. Oh, and then there was that little matter of final exams, which we all needed to pass.

There were hurdles to climb, for sure. But for once, I didn't doubt that we-–that _I_ -–could leap over them without trouble. I was still a pessimist; I doubted that would ever change. But maybe, just maybe, the entire universe wasn't really out to get me.


End file.
